One Green Apple
by FoxoftheDesert
Summary: *Enchanted Forest AU* When the unthinkable happens, Regina has to swallow her pride and team up with an old enemy to save the woman she loves. The subsequent journey will change many of her perceptions, both of herself and of others, and challenge her in ways she could never have predicted.
1. Prologue

**A/N** : Well, the time has come for me to unveil what may very well be my last full length story in the Once Upon a Time fandom. It's a sad day, but also exciting. This story has been in production for over 2 years now and was being plotted in my head for probably a year before I started writing it. Needless to say, I'm pretty attached to it. It is, in my biased opinion, my best story to date. I will, of course, be xposting to Ao3, where I am much more likely to interact if that's of interest.

This is a really big prologue. Sorry not sorry. I hope it's enjoyable, though. And lastly, I love Red Queen. Thanks to the amazing authors who came before me that inspired this obsession. And thanks to UnfairestOfThemAll, my intrepid beta, for keeping my lunacy manageable.

 **Standard Disclaimer** : These lovely characters ain't mine, I just play with them gently. Please don't sue me. The mistakes are mine, though.

* * *

 **Prologue**

The writing of a new, monumental page in history begins with one green apple that changes not only one world but two. What might be an absurd notion to the rational thinker will be proven as unequivocally true with a single bite of what appears to be an ordinary piece of fruit. In time, that seemingly innocuous act will be universally viewed as the impetus for momentous events spanning two disparate realms, events that will resonate into the future far beyond the capacity for any contemporary prognosticator to grasp.

To arrive at the pivotal fulcrum upon which this story rests, we must begin with a recounting of the fortuitous meeting between the axial figures of our narrative. One is a humble heroine, whose ferocious and loyal heart possesses a unique ability to see the good in others, which gets her into as much trouble with miscreants as it endears her to those she gently coaxes out of the darkness and back into the light. The other is an ignoble figure of ill repute, perhaps the most infamous villain of her generation whose dastardly feats have made an indelible imprint upon the collective memory of a nation. Inspired by a devotion that surpasses any arbitrary boundaries of tradition and which challenges the limits of human experience, these two remarkable women will prove erroneous the condescension of their numerous detractors. Together, they will labor together to build a kingdom which will serve as the linchpin of an alliance that spans from the fabled realm of Misthaven to the enchanted foreign fields of Oz.

The extraordinary tale of the Queens of Misthaven begins with a highly anticipated report from a reliable source in Queen Regina's intelligence network: Snow White has been spotted. Details indicate the outlaw princess has been sheltering in a village to the north in order to recuperate from minor injuries incurred during a recent run in with a roving knot of brigands.

Unfortunately by the time Regina's spy entered the village, the notorious outlaw was mobile again and preparing to escape her jurisdiction via the mountain range nearby. There a narrow, hazardous pass terminates less than half a mile short of the border. On the other side, freedom awaits Snow within the ordinarily unfriendly confines of the realm ruled by King George.

 _No doubt that snide bastard will make an exception for Snow just to spite me_ , Regina thinks, seething at the possibility of her hated enemy escaping into the welcoming arms of another, albeit less important, nemesis. With no time to waste to prevent this catastrophe, she hastily organizes a platoon of her finest soldiers in a field to the southeast of the Dark Palace.

The sky overhead is a brilliant blue, white puffy clouds in various whimsical shapes dancing through the atmosphere. There is a slight chill in the air that indicates the onset of autumn. Soon enough, winter will blanket the land with freezing temperatures and a fine, perpetual layer of white.

 _The news has come just in time_. _I hate chasing fugitives in the snow._ She almost smiles at the thought. Snow in the snow has always held a strangely fond connotation for her outside of the amusing pun.

When Snow was a child, Regina would often venture outside with the young princess to watch her build snowmen and make snow angels or toss snowballs at the few friends she kept from the noble class that occupied the castle with the royal family. After Regina's wedding, Leopold essentially foisted his daughter upon her, which only reinforced the widespread view of their marriage – that it was little more than a convenient arrangement for his sporadic pleasure and general relief, both of which came at Regina's expense. Most of the time she hated her husband for his lack of parental responsibility. Bad enough that she had to let him touch her in places only Daniel ever had. Forcing her to become primary caretaker to a spoiled, daft, annoying princess was adding insult to injury. Occasionally, though, when Snow had no one to play with, Regina would join her stepdaughter in the frozen fun. Those rare outings were some of the few good memories she has of raising Snow. But because they also give her a minuscule reason to reconsider her vendetta, she does not often reminisce upon them. Best to forget there was ever a time she might have loved Snow lest she lose even an ounce of her conviction to kill the insipid brat.

"The traitor Snow White has been located," she tells her assembled troops from her regale perch atop Rocinante.

The company stands in formation before her, proud and grave with their weapons at the ready. These men are not only her most skilled but are also her most loyal. To the last, they are grim-faced and battle-tested soldiers of steely determination, none of whom retain any love for the deposed House of White. All of them lost friends or family to Leopold's secret excesses or had justice denied them by the blatant whitewashing of crimes committed by his many loyal sycophants. Snow, to them, is no rightful heir but a living reminder of their grief and rage. For that reason alone, she trusts all of them to pursue their quarry without mercy.

"She will be taking the pass between our realm and that of King George in order to escape justice," she goes on as the men listen intently. "While George has no love for the White family, he has even less for me. Thus, he will surely offer her sanctuary as a means to goad me. It goes without saying, then, that the outlaw must not under any circumstances be allowed to cross the border on the other side of the mountain. Your orders are to apprehend her alive, not necessarily unharmed, and then bring her to me."

"What of her rumored compatriot? That freakish girl that murdered half of Perrault. What do we do with her?" says Captain Renford, a grizzled survivor of many bloody conflicts.

Disregarding the exaggeration and contempt with which he spat out his inquiry, Regina gives him a dark smile. _Ah, yes. The werewolf_ , she muses to herself. _What, indeed, shall I do with that most fascinating morsel?_ She has long desired to catch a glimpse of Snow's mythical sidekick. According to hearsay among the peasantry, the girl is largely to be credited with Snow's continued survival. While all good rumors are rooted in at least a minimal amount of truth, this one has been verified more than once.

Many of her sorties against Snow have been thwarted by the great beast that has assumed a role as the exiled princess's protector. As might be obvious, this continual interference makes the werewolf a thorn in her side, as is anyone else brave or stupid enough to ally with the bane of her existence. For the crime of aiding and abetting alone she should order the girl's immediate execution. Yet for reasons beyond comprehension, she is inclined to spare so unique a quarry if only to satisfy a highly piqued curiosity.

During her reign, Regina has encountered a handful of the ancient magical species. None of them proved worthy of her time or continued interest, as they were either wholly given over to their animalistic compulsions and lacking even a modicum of self-control or intelligence or both. Thus they were of no use to her. But from what she has gathered via tales spread far and wide of Snow's friend, her peerless beauty, prowess in battle, unshakable loyalty, and impressive mastery over her condition make her not only special but of immense potential value. Few, if any, are as capable of appropriately appreciating the attributes Snow's wolf brings to the table quite like Regina can. There is also the not-so-insignificant consideration that such a weapon under her sway, either via persuasion or forceful subjugation, would be an advantage she would be a moron to dismiss.

And yet her somewhat irrational if not unreasonable compulsion to acquire Snow's werewolf can never come at the cost of her revenge. No matter what must be sacrificed, she is not about to allow this welcome stroke of good fortune to go to waste.

"Try to do the same," she answers the commander after a brief pause to consider her options. "Apprehend the wolf if possible but kill her if you must. Capturing Snow White is to be your primary concern. All other interests are irrelevant."

Renford bows his head submissively, ever the obedient soldier. "As you command, Your Majesty."

Regina's lips turn up at seeing her orders are well received. "Very well, then. Let us be off." She lifts her hands to the sky, summoning vast amounts of energy to teleport herself, her prized steed, and her troops to the base of the mountain pass.

Upon arrival, none of the men stumble – they are well accustomed by now to magical transportation. Perfectly composed, their eyes are swiftly upon her, awaiting further orders without a hint of trepidation.

Up here at elevation the pleasant weather at the Dark Palace seems a distant memory. Snow falls in spurts of large crystalline flakes and the temperature is low enough that it sticks to the rocky ground. The sky is overcast with huge billowing gray clouds, indicating the precipitation is unlikely to do anything but increase in volume and intensity. Likely within hours, the whole pass will be blanketed ankle deep with snow. _Lovely._ Much as she wishes for clear skies and warm weather, though, her enthusiasm for the pending victory is unaffected.

"You will be taking a company of men up the pass, Captain," she begins relaying her more detailed instructions. "I will linger behind so that I can deposit a squad at the far end to block our prey from slipping the net. Lieutenant Allen!" At her terse bark, said officer steps out and crisply salutes. "Your squad will be tasked with closing off this entrance. Let no one enter or exit on pain of death. Do you understand your orders?"

"Yes, your Majesty," the Lieutenant replies, and then salutes before departing to deploy his men at the mouth of the pass.

"Lieutenant Rodrigo," she calls, summoning the third officer attending this mission. He, as Lieutenant Allen had, steps out with a crisp salute.

Rodrigo is a personal favorite who hails from her home country, to the southwest of her family's ancestral domain. She appointed him to her personal guard upon seizing the crown. As he was born a peasant, it was not becoming to immediately place him into the officer corps, so she arranged for him to be under the command of an officer with similarly humble beginnings who had risen through the ranks via toil, dedication, and skill. Since then Rodrigo has flourished, serving faithfully and accruing various noteworthy commendations along the way. Complete confidence in the Lieutenant is not difficult for her to summon when he has yet to fail her.

Pride for her countryman swells in her breast. She allows it to show as she instructs him, "Gather your squad around me, please, Lieutenant."

"Form ranks around the Queen!" Rodrigo commands, swirling his ornate cavalry sabre in the air. After his men are encircling Rocinante, the Lieutenant joins them, coming to stand at her left.

Regina turns her eyes to the commanding officer before departing for the far end of the pass. "Captain Renford," she says, "you may begin your ascent. Should you encounter resistance, do not wait for me to begin the assault. I shall join you shortly."

"Yes, your Majesty," Renford bows, then glances back up at her. "Shall I leave two men behind to make the ascent with you upon your return?"

Regina shakes her head, a bit impatient, but appreciative of the thoughtful nature of his query. The captain is an excellent soldier with an unwavering dutifulness and an attention to detail that will be sorely missed should he perish on this mission. Not that such a potential negative consequence can deter her when obsession with capturing Snow supersedes every other consideration. In the end, he is a pawn on her chess board, nothing more and nothing less.

"That is not necessary, Captain," she says dismissively. "I will not linger far enough behind for trouble to find me, and although I will be low on reserve energy after situating Lieutenant Rodrigo's squad, I will not be completely depleted. I can defend myself if I must. Mind you, I am also accomplished with a sword, as you have learned personally."

When she first promoted Renford, he was full of himself – an arrogant, misogynistic prick that needed to be reigned in before those unfavorable attributes outweighed the favorable ones. She challenged him to a non-lethal duel, privately of course to avoid shaming him in front of his men, which he accepted. Her skill with a blade has never been a closely guarded secret. Many uppity men who dismissed her because of her gender have crossed swords with her and not lived to tell the tale. Renford, like most of her officer corps, thought himself above all of the enemies she had dispatched and thus required a harsh lesson. He touched her only once in their best of five contest. After that, he was far more humble and obedient.

When Renford bows his head in obeisance, Regina gives him an encouraging smile. As she had told him after their duel, bygones are bygones. He had conducted himself well to put her to the test as he did and unlike many who trod his path before did not let his defeat at the hands of a woman much smaller and ostensibly weaker than him break him. Instead, it motivated him to be better and opened his eyes to the value of women in combat roles. A month later, Renford started taking women who wished to be warriors into his company. Three of his first recruits are with him today, themselves grizzled veterans of many bloody engagements.

"I will be fine, Gerald," she says to him, knowing he only spoke up out of concern for her well being. "Do not allow my safety to be a distraction. Capturing Snow is one thing. Her companion, however, will present a vastly more difficult challenge that will require all of your concentration."

He nods in acquiescence then calls out for his men to fall in line. Looking to her one last time, Regina waves her hand in permission for him to orders the advance. He does so promptly. As she watches his company begin a confident march up the pass, a deep sense of satisfaction warms her bones. She has all but assured her impending triumph.

Brimming with assurance that encroaches upon hubris, she conjures up an image of the opposite end of the pass in her mind and then immediately summons her magic once again to transport Rodrigo's squad there. Located just on the side of the border belonging to her kingdom, the outlet spreads out from the base of the mountain like a yawning jaw. Rimmed with craggy tooth outcroppings, it empties into dense foliage that quickly gives way to unending forest, making it a perfect location in which to stage an ambush.

Before returning to follow Renford's company up the pass from the rear, Regina relays the same instructions to Rodrigo as she had to Allen: hold his position on pain of death. He accepts the charge with a crisp salute and then orders his men into position. With all of the pieces carefully arranged, she at last returns to where she'd departed Captain Renford.

Back at the entrance to the pass, she spurs Rocinante forward into a leisurely trot. Her magic is significantly drained from her efforts to place her troops but that is of little concern. With both ends of the pass blocked and a company of thirty men on the route itself, Snow and her furry friend are hemmed in and all but finished. She deems it highly unlikely that she will be forced to risk her health summoning large spells when she doubts any magic whatsoever will be required to accomplish her objective. How are two young women going to defeat so many soldiers trained to deadly precision along with the most infamous sorceress to ever live? Even if one of them is a fearsome werewolf, the thought is laughably absurd.

As she ascends the path, Regina lags a ways behind her soldiers while they slog up the treacherous path to intercept their quarry. Being alone gives her a chance to revel in her pending triumph. The thrill of finally having Snow at her mercy has her approaching a state of preemptive euphoria.

So sure is she of victory that she begins to envision the plethora of creative ways in which she can dispose of her archenemy. Firstly she contemplates beheading Snow, but swiftly decides that is simply too quick a method of execution. No, Snow must suffer endless agony before she is allowed the mercy of death. With that option eliminated, she considers gifting Snow some quality time in the rack, after which the brutalized prisoner would be drawn and quartered. But the thought of involving horses, so majestic an animal, in Snow's death seems distasteful – although considering the way Snow had entered her life, an equestrian related demise would be somewhat perversely appropriate. In the end, she settles on a grim series of tortures involving publicly flogging Snow over a period of weeks followed by nightly visits from the Head Inquisitor, a man Regina had hired for his special creativity with punishments. Only once Snow is hovering at death's door, begging to be put down like the animal she is, will the torment end, and then just so whatever quivering lump of flesh remains can be unceremoniously roasted at the stake.

By the time Regina catches up to Captain Renford's company, she is practically salivating from the delicious fantasies involving Snow's prodigious suffering. To her utter dismay, however, she does not arrive to the joyous sight of a subdued Snow White, nor is she welcomed by the corpse the dead compatriot who was unlucky enough to have accompanied the outlaw princess upon the lonely and perilous mountain pass. Instead she is met with the distressing reality of her troops being thoroughly trounced.

Seeing as the soldiers she deployed are the most skilled fighters in her entire realm, she is quite perplexed by the development. That shock promptly turns into awe upon noticing dead soldiers strewn in grotesque positions – many lacking significant portions of their anatomy – at the humongous paws of the most magnificent beast she has ever laid eyes upon.

Enraptured, she watches the massive wolf with midnight fur and huge glowing yellow eyes rend into pieces what remains of her men one by one. The fugitives have chosen to make their stand at a section of the pass wide enough for three broad shouldered men to navigate side-by-side. On one side, a sheer wall of rock the most talented climber could not scale, and on the other a drop so long a cat could not survive. The tactic virtually eliminates the numerical advantage of the attackers and makes it that much easier for an enormous werewolf to dispatch her enemies with extreme prejudice.

To get at the two, Renford's troops are forced to kick or hurtle their slain comrades over the narrow pass, sending corpses tumbling down the mountainside. Meanwhile Snow hovers behind the wolf by a step or two, safely guarded from harm by her four-legged protector as she cuts down her fair share of opponents one arrow at a time with deadly precision. While Snow's talent with the bow is impressive, it is glaringly evident that the lion's share of the damage has been done by the gorgeous wolf whose ebony fur now glistens with the blood of the soldiers she has slain.

To Regina it feels like the slaughter takes hours. And there is nothing she can do about it. Her magic is unavailable except in emergency and there is no room for her to enter the fray. So she sits upon Rocinante and watches, half horrified and half captivated.

After the wolf has dispatched the last of her enemies, Captain Renford himself, she stands there motionless with baleful yellow eyes fixated unflinchingly upon Regina. The complete lack of fear in the creature is emphasized by a level of contempt that sends a lance of cold through her suddenly frigid body. She starts to summon her magic but stops before it arcs at her fingertips upon spotting something strange. Hidden within the depths of those wild eyes, underneath all of the rancor, she there is allure directed toward her that, while impossible to explain, nonetheless beckons her to momentarily disregard her sole purpose for being here. Snow is so tantalizingly close at hand, and yet Regina becomes too distracted to care. An instant surge of interest in Snow's beast that is both tantalizing and disgusting has for the moment overridden her primary objective.

Every subsequent attempt to suppress whatever mystical cords are being drawn between her and the wolf ends in failure as her instinct to slaughter every living thing before her wrestles with this disconcerting fascination. Regina languishes in indecision, paralyzed and hardly able to breathe. It is almost as if she has succumbed to the inescapable tendrils of some previously undiscovered exotic enchantment. The thought would surely seem ridiculous except for the pleasant warmth suffusing her chest, the prickling of an excitement-induced sweat beading at her temple, and the rapid beating of her heart within her breast.

For a long spell, nothing on the mountain moves aside from the spits of snow raining down from the sky. The air is astonishingly still. All of the soldiers Regina has sent up the mountain pass are dead, and without full use of her power, she recognizes her own vulnerability all too well. She loathes the feeling almost as much as she does the stark reality of the mission having so spectacularly failed.

During the years she suffered indignity after indignity trapped in a loveless marriage she didn't want, she had become close acquaintances with vulnerability. Fear was her constant mode of being back then. How could it not be when she was constantly forced to relinquish control over her life and her body to a man who held no regard for her outside of her usefulness to his infuriatingly ignorant daughter and to his pathetically tiny dick. Only magic had made her strong enough to take back possession of her own life by avenging herself upon her chauvinistic oppressor.

Unfortunately her magic is mostly useless now, having spent the bulk of it transporting her troops only for them to be slain down to the last man. With woefully inadequate reserves at her disposal, she is suddenly reduced to that helpless young woman who just lost the love of her life along with all hope of a happy future. Despair sets in at the periphery of her consciousness, pressing against the ever-present rage that has defined her for so long.

She levels a murderous glare at Snow. Were she faced with the exiled princess alone, there is no doubt in her mind that her superior swordsmanship would prevail in a contest to the death. But Snow is not alone. To her increasing alarm, a beast of epic grandeur is poised forebodingly between them, forbidding her from achieving her ultimate victory.

And then something truly bizarre happens. Deep within her chest, she feels a tug on her attention coming from the direction of the majestic wolf. When her eyes meet those glowing yellow furnaces of emotion once more, she watches intently as they shift from open hatred, to muted surprise, and then finally to a beguiled tint that indicates the wolf is as subconsciously invested in Regina as she is in her.

The most astounding part is that the development is not at all unpleasant. For whatever reason, she feels drawn to this beast, and can only wonder as to why. Never before has she experienced so strong an urge to interact with another being, especially one whom she has just encountered for the first time.

Unbidden, Rocinante takes a step forward, completely unafraid as if spurred by his mistress's magnetic reaction to the creature before him. To Regina's surprise, the wolf meets that step with a nonthreatening one of its own.

In typical fashion, Snow chooses that moment to open her accursed trap, breaking the magical connection. "Well, well. Not what you anticipated would happen, was it Regina?" The gloating is delivered with haughty disdain indicating excessive pleasure that her paltry party of two has annihilated a company thirty strong.

"Not quite," Regina retorts, eyes still locked upon the black wolf as it settles down on its haunches to hover protectively at Snow's side. "You had an advantage that I did not. Now that I have been so rudely enlightened, believe me when I say I won't make the same mistake twice."

Regina audibly gasps as the werewolf begins to transform. She stares on, unashamedly transfixed by the process of an entire skeleton rearranging and stretching out as bones are reshaped from the compact ones of an awesomely powerful wolf into the familiar lengths belonging to a human being. However, the human who has so recently appeared from the furry form of her counterpart is far from ordinary. On the contrary, she is a statuesque specimen of womanhood that steals away Regina's ability to form either coherent sentences or cogent thoughts.

Lush dark hair tumbles in curls down the planes of a shapely back and surprisingly delicate shoulders to frame a striking face which flushes brightly at being intently gawked at. The young woman before her is so unearthly beautiful that Regina surmises her to features to have been carved by the hands of the gods themselves. To her horror, she realizes her once passive interest is morphing at a dizzying rate into an acutely active one. This strange, mystical girl has so enraptured her that she can only dimly recognize the altogether alien sensation of being bewitched – an irony considering she is an expert practitioner of the dark arts.

"Oh, please do send some more fodder for my wolf to dispatch," Snow's alluringly mysterious protector then replies, her voice as sweet as warm honey to Regina's ears – her insides as well, it seems, judging by the way her chest suffuses with heat and her belly stirs pleasantly. Still partially under the effects of the transformation, the girl's eyes glow a latent, ethereal yellow. Her enticingly full lips turn up in a self-satisfied smirk. As if being pulled by the same invisible thread Regina had felt earlier, the werewolf moves closer and closer as she speaks, "She so enjoys playing with the toys you send her. This lot was the funnest yet, but still not quite up to snuff as you can see."

Unable to help herself, Regina barks out a full, throaty laugh. She is absolutely delighted by the emboldened gall of a peasant who has brazenly aligned herself with the Evil Queen's mortal enemy.

"Oh, my dear, if you think that's the best I've got, you're sorely mistaken," Regina shoots back.

While she possesses the power to obliterate the painfully young and naive woman before her, she lacks the energy to summon it without completely draining herself. And that is not to mention the fact that the girl had slaughtered a contingent of her best men with what was evidently little effort on her part. Impressed as she is by Snow's werewolf companion, she is yet unwilling to show any form of weakness. Thus the half-lie.

Eyeing the girl with barely restrained lust, she smiles wickedly. "That said, I am so very pleased you enjoyed my gifts. Perhaps in the near future I'll have to work up something extra special just for you."

Flashing Regina an almost playful grin, the dark haired beauty chuckles in amusement even as a blush colors her face, which then spreads southward through the swath of pale flesh covering her neck to the portion of her upper chest left exposed by otherwise modest garments. Her brilliant green eyes dilate, the clear hint of arousal in them thrilling Regina to no end. It also does not escape her notice that Snow is watching the exchange in open consternation, which only serves to fuel Regina's escalating excitement.

"I'll be eagerly awaiting whatever you come up with, Your Majesty," the werewolf replies, having drifted to stand only a handful of paces away – close enough that Regina is at last able to fully appreciate her unnatural beauty.

Frankly, it is outright disgusting how gorgeous the girl is. Regina does not often encounter women whose attractiveness can even marginally rival her own, but in the person of this otherworldly werewolf, she is sure she has finally met someone who surpasses her. If it were not for the fact that she is so curiously enamored, she would be positively green with envy.

Eyeing the subject of her fascination with unveiled eyes, Regina hums with anticipation. "Is that a challenge? My, my aren't you brave. Or stupid."

"Neither. I'm just a girl doing what she's gotta do." The mysterious young woman beams a smile that reveals perfect rows of large pearly white teeth.

Regina's heart begins to race with so tempting a prize almost within reach. She can barely refrain from using up her limited reserves of energy in order to snatch the girl up and transport them both to her castle, to hell with Snow and her revenge. Not wanting to give in to such a frivolous and dangerous impulse, she settles instead for drawing out more information.

"What's your name then, _girl_?"

"Red, Your Majesty," the werewolf boldly declares. "My name is Red." The name falling from those alluring lips feels almost tangible, like sweetly scented rose petals brushing against Regina's sensitive flesh. She shudders involuntarily, and though the reaction is subtle enough to be hidden from Snow, Red does not miss it. Taking another step forward, her smoldering green eyes dilate even more, causing them to appear almost wholly black. Regina cannot hold back a gasp of surprise at the blatant, almost aggressive nature of Red's pursuit of whatever inexplicable attraction is building between them.

It is at that point Snow once again decides to intervene. Stepping between Red and Regina, she halts Red's progress and at the same time partially blocks Regina's view of the too-pretty werewolf. As short as Snow is, Red's face remains visible despite Snow's interference, and because of that Regina is able to observe a strange mixture of emotions play across those too-pretty features aimed directly at her companion. First is appreciation of Snow's protective nature, after which comes affection for the defense of her virtue. It the last that most interests Regina, though, as it is an uneasy aggravation that settles into Red's expression. Apparently she is rather upset at their charged interplay being interrupted.

Regina latches onto that unexpected sentiment with both hands, realizing it means that the beguiling shapeshifter has been enjoying their repartee as much as she has. As it was with every other aspect of her life, though, Snow simply had to ruin it.

"That's quite enough," the insufferable nitwit then interjects. "I'll thank you to leave her out of this. This is between you and me, Regina, so let's keep it that way."

Regina scoffs at the implied and utterly unintimidating threat. Rolling her eyes, she snarls back, "Even if I were to ignore the rather impressive fact that she effortlessly destroyed so many of my men, you are my enemy, Snow. Therefore, those who commiserate with you are my enemies also, a fact of which I'm sure _Red_ here is well aware. And we all know what I do to my enemies."

Regina is secretly delighted to see the girl shiver noticeably upon hearing her name spoken. Another flush works its way up her cheeks as well, coloring them the same lovely shade as her moniker. Enthralled as she is by the reaction, Regina is tempted to continue her exchange with Red in spite of Snow only to be thwarted by Snow nocking a bolt into her bow. The bandit aims it straight at Regina's heart.

"In that case let's just end this tired game of ours right now," Snow grits out and then looses the string of her bow, firing the bolt with deadly accuracy.

Out of pure instinct, Regina reacts with swift movements, catching the offending bolt with a careful application of magic. To her aggravation, she does not recover in time to prevent the two outlaws from slipping away down the pass, Snow all but dragging Red, who is peering back despondently at Regina over her shoulder, away by the hand. Left alone and with her magic at dangerously low levels, she quickly analyzes the situation.

On one hand, she can be reckless and follow after her quarry or on the other she can simply abandon pursuit of them altogether. She has just enough energy left to teleport back home to regroup, conceding that this particular opportunity has all but slipped away. She already knows that the handful of men guarding the exit of the pass will be unable to stand against Red and Snow's combined skill, even with her limited help.

The rational choice would be to return home and wait for another opportunity to present itself, but she is simply not feeling rational at the moment, and for more than one reason. That she wants Snow to be apprehended is a given, but beyond that she is also loathe to let Red slip so easily from her grasp. The look on Red's face as Snow dragged away has imprinted upon her brain – that ragged desperation to have just one more minute of interaction, to be allowed to get just one step closer. Something about Red has disrupted Regina's carefully constructed goals so that she finds herself feeling that same desperation. Desire to secure the werewolf by whatever means necessary before returning to the Dark Palace usurps any further rationalization.

Unsure as to precisely why she feels so compelled, Regina dismounts and then commands Rocinante to return to the entrance of the pass where a squadron of her troops are waiting. Risking herself is one thing, but her only true friend in the world should not have to pay for her current bout of foolishness. As always Rocinante obeys, and once he is loping steadily down the pass, she sets her shoulders, withdraws her sword from its scabbard, and sets out after the two fugitives.

Whilst traversing the narrow path it the snow begins to fall in earnest. Without her magic to provide artificial heat, the bitter chill starts to soak down through the layers of her clothes, past her skin, and on into her bones. For at least five minutes, she stumbles onward, staying close to the rough cliff face on her right to keep her bearings and her balance.

So thick is the snowfall and so discombobulated is she in the cold that she does not see or hear an enormous boulder working free somewhere above her head. Upon releasing from its outcropping, it hurtles toward her, poised to crush her fragile human frame like an ant, and would have done just that had it not been for a blur of red plowing unexpectedly into her body. The impact launches her away from the incoming slab of solid stone, sending her sprawling onto her side, dislodging her sword, which slides over the lip of the pass and clanks down the unforgiving slope.

Regina does not have to wonder at what has happened, her brain having instantly made the connection. Snow's werewolf has chosen to double back, and in so doing, saved her life.

After standing up and brushing the dirt off her damp clothes, Regina glares daggers at her now-cloaked savior. She summons a fireball that flickers in and out of existence – she is now drawing on magical fumes, as it were.

"Sorry," Red says in lieu of explanation, holding her hands up to show she means no harm. "I wasn't trying to hurt you. For some reason I just felt like I needed to come back. When I heard the boulder coming down and saw it was about to crush you, I didn't have time to shout a warning."

"What perplexes me is why you would help me at all," Regina says, and then risks extinguishing the fireball. Her cynical nature refuses to fully relax. Crossing her arms, she narrows her eyes and studies her unlikely savior, searching for any indication the girl might be playing games after all and was merely toying with her prey before deciding to pounce for the slaughter. It is an insensible thought borne out of years of paranoia. If Red wanted her dead, she would have watched that oversized rock turn her into a flesh pancake.

The werewolf shrugs sheepishly, ducking her head and batting her lashes as if chagrined. "I can't really explain it," she offers demurely. "Something kept tugging at my chest, a feeling like I've never had before. It was pleading with me to turn back, and I couldn't deny it. I don't fight my instincts as they have served me well over the years. After I saw Snow safely over the border, I decided to listen to them." She gestures lamely, biting her lip in an apologetic manner before saying, "I had to kill some more of your warriors. Sorry. I left some of them alive, though, including the commander. He's unconscious but alive."

"That surprises me," Regina replies with no small amount of confusion, though she is relieved to hear Rodrigo lives. Still, she wonders how someone who has risked life and limb for Snow White could ignore so fortuitous an opportunity to observe the demise of Snow's greatest enemy. Red's act of mercy makes no sense to a woman unfamiliar with that particularly odious word. "Not that you killed more of my men," she clarifies, "or spared some for that matter, but that you risked your own life to save mine. I would have thought you'd be gladly rid of me seeing as I want your friend dead."

At that, Red quirks her head to the side, a secretive smile playing at the edges of full lips that simply beg to be kissed. "But do you really?" Regina frowns, both at the question and herself, unable to fathom where the thought of kissing Red came from. "Think about it," Red then goes on to make her point, "you could have blasted Snow off the face of the earth earlier, but you didn't. I know how powerful you are. I can smell it on you. No one stopped you from killing her but yourself."

However much Regina desires to object to Red's assessment, there is a kernel of truth there that she is unable to deny, no matter how much she wants to. The ability to find Snow via magic mirror has been part of her repertoire for years, and as Red had so aptly declared, she possesses the power to snuff her enemy out of existence with little effort. Why hadn't she then? Regina finds it difficult to put her finger on any one reason, and that unnerves her more than she cares to admit.

She has always plotted for Snow to suffer before killing her, so that is certainly a motive behind her convoluted tactics. And yet that does not explain why she continually allowed Snow to slip through her fingers. She is many things – vindictive, reckless, and perhaps blind in some areas – but she is not stupid. Not only was she raised by a woman who touted the importance of knowledge and intellect, she had also been trained in the magical arts by a man who amused himself for centuries outwitting people in his nefarious deals. By Cora's unyielding hand she was forced to understand that her mind was every bit as vital as her beauty in determining how successful she could be in a world ruled by men. Rumple, on the other hand, made sure she understood the leverage that power afforded over those whose logic had been trumped by impulse or necessity.

Once Snow was banished from her privileged life, the naive and unprepared princess was fit for being easily outmaneuvered, a lamb practically served up for the slaughter. And yet Regina had failed to capitalize on that inexperience and general lack of survival skills in her prey. Hubris, she now realizes, had convinced her Snow would fail to adapt and would therefore be easily caught. Even when that did not happen, she had continued to squander every chance she had to apprehend the girl she'd sworn to kill on Daniel's grave, a sacred oath if ever there was one.

There is something to what Red has said, but seeing as she is freezing and aggravated at her setback today, Regina is not in the mood to further analyze her own motivations for revenge.

"Careful now," she warns with a sharp sneer, feeling put on the spot and lashing out accordingly. "You're treading on thin ice."

Rather than recoil, Red steps closer with an unreadable expression on her face. "Am I?" Glancing down, she deliberately stomps her boot against unforgiving stone and then gives Regina a wide, gorgeous smile that reaches all the way into twinkling eyes. "Seems like solid ground to me."

"That can be amended," Regina counters, giving a smile of her own that is more edgy, though it lacks any real bite.

Red's entire countenance shimmers with playful delight. "Again, you could have killed me earlier, but you didn't."

"Ah, but if it is a woman's prerogative to change her mind, how much more so for a Queen?" Regina returns, feeling a bit of her discomfort fade. Some intangible aura Red exudes is able to disarm her and make her feel at ease when she should be irate at the cheek being displaying. Instead, she is seized by a thrill that races up her spine as Red takes another deliberate step forward.

"Are you going to?" Red then asks, lips still turned up. "Change your mind, that is."

"I may," Regina replies, settling into their repartee as smoothly as she had earlier. "Step closer and find out if you dare."

Instead of testing her, Red stills, smile remaining firmly in place, though her eyes are now crinkling merrily at the corners. She extends her hand toward Regina and then says, "I know I mentioned my name earlier, but I should probably properly introduce myself. Most folks call me Red Riding Hood for obvious reasons," she shrugs her shoulders and gestures at her eponymous cloak, "but my friends know me as Red Lucas."

Not caring about propriety on so secluded a mountain so far away from the suffocating rituals and rules of court, Regina takes the proffered appendage, leather-bound hand clasping another leather-bound hand.

"How quaint and unoriginal, _Red,_ " she replies, surliness evaporating at the feel of Red's impressive grip. She is surprised by the softness of her own voice, by how unladen from scathing sarcasm or anger or needless meanness it is, and especially by how very much she had enjoyed the way the girl's name rolled off her tongue. "I am Queen Regina, of course," she then states, straightening as regally as she can considering the circumstances. "Enigmatic though your reasoning may be, your instincts have served me well this evening. I owe you my life. Thank you."

Red's smile widens almost impossibly at her heroics being recognized, stretching into something toothy and as brilliant as the sun on a clear summer afternoon. From the first time Regina laid eyes on the werewolf, she'd thought her impossibly beautiful; but when Red smiles from her heart as she is at that moment, the celestial bodies of night and day that paint the heavens in awesome grandeur are diminished by comparison.

"You're very welcome, Your Majesty," Red returns, hand still firmly grasping Regina's. The muscles in her forearms ripple beneath ivory skin, and the sight fills Regina with a second onset of warmth that temporarily banishes the cold. After releasing her hand, Red gestures toward the path behind her. "You were following us alone, on foot, and clearly exhausted. I could have taken you without breaking a sweat. Not the smartest play from a woman I've come to respect for her intelligence if not for her tenacity."

Although Regina bristles, it is not in offense. In such close proximity to Red, able now to see the flecks of gold in those mesmerizing green eyes and note the flush coloring the girl's pale cheeks and neck both from the cold and from something else entirely, she feels uncharacteristically charitable. She waves a hand dismissively.

"Yes, well, I saw an opportunity and took it," she says, corners of her lips quirking up, eyes dancing. "Not my best decision, I'll admit, but it's the closest to Snow I've been in months. The thought of letting her get away may have influenced my reckless behavior." The admission, while only partially true, is admittedly difficult to make. All the same Red's arched brow and satisfied smirk – indicating her own engagement in the exchange – make it easier to swallow. "And besides," she then offers a secondary justification that is as irrelevant as the first, "I couldn't very well let the loss of my men go unanswered, now, could I? They represented a significant investment of time and resources to the kingdom. I felt obliged to pursue from a purely economical standpoint."

"Pretending for a moment I buy that," Red counters, eyes dancing in amusement again, "what I really want to know is what are you going to do now? I mean, here I am, the monster that decimated your soldiers. I am at your mercy, wholly human, and I know you have enough fuel left in your tank to do whatever you wish with me."

Regina studies Red carefully, struck by inspiration. Having already been wondering what kind of exquisite frame might be hidden beneath the rough fabrics of Red's peasant garb, she sweeps appraising eyes up and down the body that is currently covered by far too many layers of clothing. Judging by the toned forearms she's already been afforded a glimpse of, her imagination starts to run amok.

With wholly inappropriate intensity, she aches to discover just how defined the girl's muscles are, imagining that she might closely resemble the flawless goddesses whose statues inhabit the ancient temples found in the countries to the south. Almost desperately Regina longs to roam lazy fingers down what is sure to be a taut tummy, and then skim the palms of her hands up silky smooth yet powerfully carved thighs that propel what are certain to be impossibly long legs judging by Red's height.

 _If only you knew the sort of things I wish to do to you._ Regina's skin itches with want, and even though Snow is tantalizingly within her reach, she is far too enamored to even care. In this paradoxical girl, simple of appearance yet deceptively complex, she has a new obsession to occupy her. Determined at present to indulge it, all thoughts of Snow recede to the fringes of her mind.

Suddenly besieged by an irresistible urge to claim the werewolf as her own, Regina decides she wants this girl on her side. Just the same, she is also aware her normal tactics will be insufficient. Offers of riches and power will hold no interest for a woman who is clearly willing to cast her life away for a criminal with zero prospects of accruing any substantial wealth. The possibility of hurtling colorful threats seems equally futile, as Red seems to have little to no fear of her whatsoever. There is also the rather unfortunate fact that magically enslaving a werewolf is a fool's errand many a magician has attempted, only to for the enchantment to break at the most inopportune moment and their victim turn upon them with savage instincts provoked to a frenzied high. All of this means she is left with only one recourse: to rely solely upon her womanly charms.

Difficult as it may be, she will have to rein in her mile-wide impulsive streak and calm the roiling molten seas of her volcanic temper. Like a feral animal first encountering human civilization, Red will require a measured patience and a gentle touch, neither of which Regina is known to possess aside from her dealings with innocent children and her precious horses. To her, no one has proven worth the effort til now.

However it is possible, Red has seen through the formerly impenetrable facade that conceals the woman carefully entombed beneath the shell of the Evil Queen. What's more, Red has witnessed the Queen in all her terrible splendor and neither balked nor batted a lovely eyelash upon catching a manic interest that sends most fleeing in fear or cowering in pitiful submission. If anything, the Queen seems to excite Red more than the werewolf would probably ever admit to her insufferably pure friend.

Red, it appears, is far more interesting and unusual than Regina had first believed. Few are capable of taking the good with the bad without favoring one over the other depending upon moral inclination. It doesn't seem to matter to Red that Regina presents her evil side to the world while keeping what scant goodness lingers securely buried. It's been made perfectly clear during this brief interaction that Snow remaining alive is, to Red, proof that the woman she used to be is still present inside her. And that appears to be more than enough reason for Red to have committed such a startling act of proactive trust, not only by saving her life but by entrusting her with her own.

Honestly, it's a little intimidating – and terrifying – to be the recipient of such trust when the last person who'd done so destroyed her entire life. But no matter the association, Red is not Snow. That much Regina knows without a doubt. Snow could never look at Regina the way Red is right now, not with her in full Evil Queen regalia and coldblooded murder still inhabiting her charred heart. With Snow, it was always pity, guilt, or disgust whereas Red's steady gaze is marked by an attraction underscored by a deep, almost fathomless level of understanding. Only someone who is herself a monster can appreciate another monster without the stigma of morality sullying an intense, rapidly forming, and rare connection such as theirs.

So if she is required to entice Red with more of the witty banter and molten glances they have been sharing, sweetened by glimpses of a goodness she'd perhaps mistakenly thought forever in her past, she was willing to do so. Miraculously, Red believes her to be worth a lavish attention she had not recognized until now that she craves. It is the least she could do to return the favor. And with any luck, Red will soon enough succumb to the undeniable chemistry between them, the prospect of which sends a shiver coursing through Regina's limbs.

As far as she is concerned, this is an all or nothing proposition. Scant as her experience interacting with Red is, she has already concluded that a simple companionship will not suffice for either of them. Empty sex is something she already has at a ready supply, and judging by how loyal to a fault Red is, that option is not available for her at all. There is, she realizes, a real possibility of something meaningful forming between them.

A day earlier, she would have laughed until she was hoarse at the idea that she would ever willingly risk her heart again over a love affair. And yet she cannot bridle her suddenly runaway desires. She wants Red, wants all of her, wants the magnificent creature writhing beneath her fervent ministrations, bared to her not only in body but in mind, heart, and soul as well. Regina wants Red to be _her_ woman and _her_ wolf, not Snow's, and admitting that to herself is as terrifying as it is exhilarating.

"What happens next depends solely upon you," she offers enigmatically, her decision made. A subtle leer is present in her perusal of Red that causes the girl to yet again blush prettily.

Red worries artfully shaped lips for a moment before responding. "How so?"

Feeling audacious, Regina steps toward Red and is pleased to see that she does not flinch back even slightly. Rather, she remains bravely in place, head held high and eyes burning with anticipation.

As Regina maneuvers herself into Red's personal space, she hums out in approval at the response. She has grown tired of lovers who cow to her every whim, who lack the spine to stand up to her and take what they want when she is in the rare mood to give a little. She is hungry for someone whose strength of character is as immutable and whose will as intractable as her own, someone who can feed her mind and spirit as well as her body by challenging her without posing a threat to her sovereignty because they are trustworthy. In Red she believes she has glimpsed a potential partner who would do all of those things for her, a partner who is capable of standing by her side rather than folding up under the tremendous pressures of her life only to then be inevitably crushed beneath her heel.

"Since you saved my life," she answers, making sure to allow for invitation in her tone, "I am inclined to ignore your status as co-conspirator to and your abetting of an infamous outlaw in order to offer you a modest reward. It is one I personally believe you would be a fool to decline." Upon noticing that Red's interest is highly piqued, Regina grins. "In return for your agreement to dine with me on any night of your choosing within a fortnight, I will suspend my pursuit of Snow...for the time being."

Red's eyebrows shoot up at that. It appears she is as shocked to receive such an offer as Regina is that she made it. And yet to her endless astonishment she meant every word.

"Are you serious?"

"Of course I am," Regina retorts with a scoff. "I wouldn't be standing here in the freezing snow trading banter with you otherwise."

For a moment, Red grows visibly suspicious, which is to be expected. Coming from the Evil Queen, the offer must sound far too good to be true, perhaps even seeming like a trap meant to lure Snow into surrendering by capturing her best friend.

"Why would you do that?" Red then queries, her large eyes slightly narrowing. "And for how long would this ceasefire last?"

Regina tuts, though somehow manages to remain calm whereas she would normally be irritated beyond measure to have her motives questioned. Red, it appears, has some kind of mollifying effect on her, and she isn't quite sure she likes it.

"Why? Because I am the Queen. I do what I want," is her abrupt answer to the first question, as if that should be enough. She is not yet ready to show her full hand, but in order to answer Red's query more fully, she adds: "As for the latter...again, that depends entirely upon you and your ability to entertain me, my dear. My hope is that should we both be satisfied with this arrangement, we can... _negotiate_ an extension. I cannot currently fathom why, but I appear to be open to persuasion where you are concerned. If I were you, I wouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth, as it were."

Understanding dawns in Red's becoming eyes. "You mean to seduce me, don't you?" The blunt assessment catches Regina off guard and she reels back a step, unused to such boldness. "I've heard of your dalliances," Red then explains upon witnessing Regina's reaction, "and I know that you like to take lovers on a whim. I also know how you toss them out like yesterday's trash after you've finished with them. While I have to admit interest in the offer, I won't allow you to use me in such a degrading way. Besides the fact that I love Snow and will never betray her, I do _actually_ have standards. I may be a peasant by birth, Your Majesty, but I'm nobody's whore. Not even yours."

Again Regina is taken aback, this time in that Red has so readily declared an interest in pursuing a sexual relationship so long as it is not a means to entrap Snow. She hadn't expected the girl to be forthcoming, but finds herself pleasantly surprised.

"I could have your tongue for speaking to me with such impudence," she retorts, sneering just a tad to put Red in her place. She is the Evil Queen, after all, and must keep up appearances. Sadly, her posturing doesn't seem to have any effect on Red, who merely arches a flawless eyebrow. "But I will give you a pass just this once because neither of those scenarios reflect my intentions. However," she amends, "to address your understandable concerns, I will concede that I have taken my fair share of lovers and disposed of them, as you so crudely put it, like so much trash.

"I am a harsh woman, and selfish to a fault. I make no apologies for who I am. I use people for my own ends on a regular basis, and I don't see that changing any time soon. But in the interest of transparency, I will confess that I have never been so taken before as I am with you. I certainly would never have risked my own life upon a treacherously narrow mountain pass in the driving snow and biting cold just to get a second glimpse of any of my past lovers. So while your apprehension is sensible, commendable even, in this case it is not warranted. My offer is genuine."

The admission frightens Regina almost as much as it stuns Red. She hadn't meant to be so forward; it just sort of came out of her mouth all of its own volition. She would feel mortified and disgusted at herself had Red not reacted in such a receptive way.

Standing there in the snow, her bright red hood decorated by a light pile of snow flakes, Red gapes in awe as if she has just heard the most wonderful and terrifying thing. "You really feel that way?" Regina nods, swallowing heavily. "Why me?"

"I don't rightly know," Regina confesses, and notes that her heart beats faster when Red nibbles again at her lower lip. "Against all reason you seem to have bewitched me." Feeling instinctively that it is a make or break moment, she decides to play her cards, to lay it all out on the line and bare herself in a way she hadn't since Daniel passed. It is the most frightened she has been in years, but strangely also the most alive. "I cannot deny the accuracy of your assessment that I wish to bed you. I am intensely attracted to you, and I am sure that is obvious to you considering...what you are." She holds Red's gaze, making sure the werewolf understands, truly understands what she is trying to say. "All the same, to minimize this as a simple desire for carnal fulfillment would be grossly misrepresenting how I feel. There is some invisible force drawing me to you, and although I would normally be inclined to fight it, I do not wish to. Not now. I am suddenly and inexplicably tired of fighting."

Tilting her head slightly, she gazes at Red, willing the girl to understand how perplexed she is about all of this while also projecting a reassurance that will pierce through any lingering doubts Red may have. "Against all better sense, I _want_ to know you," she says, intent in inflection, "and for you in turn to know me. In order for that to happen, we must spend time with each other. Therefore I am willing to make a concession to secure that time, even if it is one that pains me beyond description."

Red makes no reply, just stares on in amazement at Regina's speech, and it makes the normally self-assured Queen unusually nervous. She is both unused to being so exposed and unaccustomed to her advances not being immediately accepted.

Flushing slightly, she squares her shoulders and gives Red a glare that lacks any real conviction. "If breaking bread with me is not an amenable solution, perhaps I have misjudged..."

"N-no!" Red then protests with wide eyes, interrupting Regina. "It's not that. I just..." She takes a giant breath and lets it out slowly. Shaking her head, she laughs ruefully. "When I was a kid, my Granny scrounged up enough spare coin to take me to the fair that was passing through the kingdom. I can remember how impressed I was with the jousting competition, and how much I wanted to taste all the wonderful food there we couldn't afford. But then, I saw a line of armored soldiers passing our way, and in the midst of them, the most glorious vision of splendor to ever grace the earth. It was you. I was just twelve years old, but I will never forget what it was like to fall in love for the first time, and I did...the moment I saw you."

Again Regina reels, remembering the particular fair Red is referring to but having no recollection of catching sight of an adolescent werewolf girl. She suddenly wishes she had, if only to know what Red looked like at so tender an age.

Wistful and glassy eyed, Red tilts her head and smiles as she continues with her reminiscing. "After we got back home, I spent my nights fantasizing about coming of age and doing something about my impossible crush. I knew the king was old, that he was likely to have passed by that time, and I was set on my path. I decided that I was going to become a famous knight so that I could enter the jousting tournament and win your hand. It was a foolish fantasy in retrospect, but those childhood dreams got me through some really bad times in the years that followed."

"Dreams often are foolish, especially those of our youth," Regina offers. She has personal experience, after all. Still somewhat out of sorts from the confession, her heart is palpitates ferociously against her breast. "But as you can see, sometimes they are harbingers of things to come. You may not be a famous knight, and might not have won my hand, but you have captured my interest all the same. The question is: is that enough incentive for you to accept my offer?"

At that, Red's entire visage turns playful, and she gives Regina teasing smile. "I guess you'll find out in two weeks." And with that, she transforms back into the form of a gorgeous black wolf, and after a playful yip, throws her head back and howls in earnest. Regina laughs, happy to hear the boisterous trumpeting and delighting in the way it lifts her spirits, makes her feel optimistic about life outside of the mission that has consumed her for so long.

As she watches Red sprint away, her anticipation for the following weeks grows exponentially. What she could not possibly have predicted, however, is that whenever she hears the sound of Red howling into the night over the subsequent years, she will remember this moment with vivid clarity. She will marvel at how on an isolated, desolate, frigid mountain pass, she felt hope stir within her breast for the first time in nearly a decade. It is a hope that – although made to endure many tribulations and forced to face many trials – will never, ever fade.


	2. Flames on the Horizon

**A/N:** This chapter sees us 7 years in the future with RedQueen settled into their life together. I thought it would make the trials more taxing and the journey more poignant if they had plenty of history behind them. That and I like writing for established couples. Everyone else does get togethers and dating problems and breakups and shit so much better than me. I also like hate the trope that happy couples aren't interesting. Like, if that's the case why does anyone want to be happy? If turmoil and angst is so much more appealing, shouldn't we all strive for unhealthy, unstable relationships? Anyway. The next 3 chapters are set up - the narrative on ramp if you will. A solid foundation is essential for the building to be sturdy. Next installment will be on Friday. Or Saturday. Depends on my mood.

To the guest reviewer who asked where Regina's soldiers went during the Curse...well, that's an excellent question worth pondering. One would think she would have made Storybrooke into a proper Banana Republic where the police and her personal security are stocked with sycophantic loyalists rather than no security and a one man Sheriff's Department run by a dude who had every reason to hate her and wish her harm. Ah, OUaT logic. How holey art thou! Also, thanks for taking the time to leave a review!

 **Standard Disclaimer** : These lovely characters ain't mine, I just play with them gently. Please don't sue me. The mistakes are mine, though.

* * *

 **Chapter 1** – Flames on the Horizon

From her seat at the head of a massive oaken table, Queen Regina smolders with tentatively restrained fury. She sweeps her eyes over the room, taking in a dozen familiar faces, all pinched with discomfort.

In a futile attempt to calm herself, she breathes slowly through her nostrils then averts her gaze to the banner draped across the far wall bearing her family crest. Once it was the black and silver of her father's house, a rearing stallion bearing a sword wielding cavalier. Five years ago she abandoned that link to a lineage she has as little use for as her fellow members do for her. Xavier's spawn hold her father in contempt to this day for allowing Cora's poison to spread unchecked through the kingdom, having banished him after his conniving wife took her schemes too far. Regina, naturally, was caught in the crossfire. She has not been welcome in her paternal ancestral lands since she was seven winters of age. The estrangement did not prevent her from shamelessly using her father's coat of arms as an additional means to solidify her hold on power after Leopold was treated to his just desserts. When marrying Red presented her an opportunity to finally erase the bitterness of being disowned by her royal grandfather and many uncles by founding a kindred all her own, she leapt at it. Together, she and Red designed a new coat of arms – upon a pitch sable background, a crimson crescent moon hung over a sprawling apple tree. A most fitting emblem for their new house, she thinks.

The walls of the council room, a sprawling stone-constructed space large enough to host a party of forty with ease, is decorated by twelve such crested banners. Each represents one of the houses belonging to the Council of Nobles, one of few carryover cabinets Regina did not disband upon assuming power. The council has diligently and wisely advised the monarchs of Misthaven for more than five hundred years, and she had seen no reason to hastily eliminate a body comprised of highly influential individuals that would only help her maintain control of her realm so long as she exerted the right amount of leverage over them. Since attaining and retained leverage is one of her specialties, they have been kept in check and thus served her well over the years. Mostly. And when they have failed in that, such as today, she does not hesitate to remind them of their place.

Other than the banners, the chamber boasts a row of thin rectangular windows set into shallow alcoves against the outer wall. All six are taller than they are broad with matching panes divided by exquisitely engraved brass. Pure, unfiltered light streams in through the clear glass, the crimson and black curtains tied off by thick golden cords. Were it night, the numerous gold-plated sconces containing fat beeswax candles would provide illumination along with the polished brass candelabras tucked into each corner of the room which feature inverted conical cups whose tops are fashioned in the shape of a many-bladed diadem.

The grand table at the center of the space, also rectangular in shape, is so thick and dense that it could likely survive a ceiling collapse. Spanning three quarters of the chamber, it dominates the area and provides ample room for councilors to spread out notation parchments along with various reports, ledgers, and reference tomes. Regina commissioned it a year after taking the throne, having disliked the old table, a perfect square that projected an equality between the nobility and the Crown she was unwilling to abide as her doddering former husband had. So enormous and heavy was the magnificent piece of furniture that it had to be brought in unassembled then painstakingly reconstructed and reinforced on site, which rendered the chambers unusable for a week. Encompassing the whole width and length of the midsection is the centerpiece, a master artwork fashioned by the most skilled jeweler in Misthaven. Formerly it was a giant onyx carving detailed with silver displaying the stallion and cavalier capped with transparent crystal. It was installed to provide a gleaming focal point punctuating the realm's extravagant wealth and did that job admirably for many years, stunning a plethora of dignitaries and royals from abroad. Having it replaced by another onyx carving with ruby representations of the new family coat of arms and similarly sealed with crystal cost a pretty penny. But the cost was worth it if only for Red's reaction upon getting her first glimpse of the finished product.

If only the memory of that moment was enough to curtail the steep spiral of frustration Regina is currently descending.

The dozen men and women assembled around the gargantuan table are currently holding her hostage, further fraying an already anorexic tether with each passing second. Their scheduled business was supposed to have concluded with the unanimous passage of security measures to bolster defenses near the border with Drakkenhall, where they are by far the weakest. Misthaven has a longstanding affiliation with that nation that she renewed upon usurping the throne, so there has been no need to reinforce the region until recently. Alarming rumblings have surfaced that a number of villages in Stefan's realm located close to Misthaven have been attacked by some unknown assailant. Excessive caution being far preferable to unanticipated disaster, she thought it wise to cover her bases in arranging reinforcements in the region. The council readily agreed.

To that end, she assured them that she would dispatch General Mulan to inspect the relevant outposts and would bestow upon the General whatever latitude, including the redistribution of troops from elsewhere, was necessary to shore them up. There is no one she trusts more to perform this task. That the council shares that opinion shows how adept Mulan is at her job. Since she was promoted to Chief Military Commander, she has greatly streamlined the deployment capacity of the realm's forces and has by all accounts doubled their combat effectiveness. The army has never been in as good a shape as it currently is. There is little doubt in her mind that under Mulan's capable leadership, the southern corps – previously left largely ignored at Regina's insistence, a potentially catastrophic mistake in hindsight – will be operating at peak efficiency in no time.

The reason for her poor mood has nothing to do with the potentially dangerous state of the southern region and everything to do with having looked forward to retiring early for once. With Red having decided to delay until tomorrow her plans to visit Waldeck, the densely populated town located around the base of the mountain the Dark Palace was built upon, they were supposed to spend the rest of the afternoon and evening together. This past month has been busy for both by any standard of comparison, leaving them with little in the way of interaction outside of an unsatisfying few minutes before retiring to catch up on a shared lack of sleep. With that being the case, she is of a mind they are both long due a recreational allowance to spend as a couple.

Sadly, it isn't to be. As if sensing her anticipation at the many pleasurable activities she could potentially indulge in with her wife late this afternoon and evening, the Council decided to it was an appropriate moment to test her faltering patience. Her mood sours even further as the spokesperson chosen to broach whatever topic they felt could not wait until next week stands and haughtily clears her throat.

"My Queen, please forgive my boldness, but there is one last matter we must discuss before convening," Lady Tremaine says, tone conveying as much criticism as possible without subverting the respect her sovereign is due.

Regina has long fostered a hearty disdain for Tremaine, and being chosen as the mouthpiece for what is bound to be bad news is doing the shrewish woman no favors. Nonetheless, Regina waves her permission to continue, which Tremaine immediately seizes upon.

"I mean no disrespect in informing you that the Council is in agreement on the longstanding concern of the kingdom lacking a legitimate heir. We must insist that you provide one with all due haste. Too long now we have mediated on your behalf with our fellow Lords and Ladies without providing them the assurances they require to continue their longstanding, incredibly generous support for the Crown. Two days ago via official written form, they unanimously demanded results from us on this issue. As sympathetic to your _unique_ situation as are all within these chambers, we can no longer stem the tide of unease. If something is not done promptly, those with the means and influence to do so will surely intervene and seek their own solution."

With each condescending phrase, Regina feels her blood pressure elevate. "What you mean to say," she sneers, "is that the brazen demand is meant for me alone and that if I don't cow to them, they will commit treason and go behind my back to procure an heir favorable to them. Only they lacked the spine to face me directly." Rising, she leans over the table imperiously, hands splayed out over the finely polished surface of a furniture piece that weighs as much as a small horse. "Well, you can tell those yellow-bellied, blue-blooded bastards I won't stand for it. If they really feel so strongly, perhaps they should level those threats in person tomorrow morning. Rest assured, I will answer them with _extreme_ relish!"

Though she has not spoken to the Council so harshly in many months, she is impressed by her ability to contain a seething rage that threatens her carefully constructed self-control. She had wanted to do so much more than verbally rail against them, even though this situation is not wholly their fault. They are merely the messengers of a faction of powerful nobles who simply refuse to let this exhausted topic die. Honestly, she should have slaughtered them all for their insolence years ago.

The last time she was confronted about her lack of a viable heir, she and Red had been together for barely more than a year. Although her life was sweeter than it had ever been, she began growing ever more irritated about the increasingly conspicuous looks of disapproval from the Council. As the body of representatives that maintained equilibrium between the Crown and the nobility that underpinned her political authority, it was imperative she at least lend a perfunctory ear service to their concerns. As much power as she wielded, they served a purpose she couldn't afford to overtly undermine.

Also, she knew without needing a formal declaration the reason for their intermittent censures. She wasn't getting any younger, and without an heir the future stability of the kingdom was in increasingly serious jeopardy. Added to that, she had taken a woman as her partner. With natural procreation eliminated as an option, her advisers began to murmur in discontent at what must have seemed to them a potentially dismal future. That disquiet was a symptom of an underlying illness among the entire upper class, noble and gentry alike, which left untreated would eventually fester into borderline rebellion. Which is precisely what is happening right now because she was, at the time, unwilling to confront it with her typical finality.

One day during an otherwise routine meeting, the Council confronted her directly. To the last member, they insisted she should take a husband to sire an heir – they hadn't known at the time that she was barren, not that it would have mattered as insistent as they were. It was for the good of the kingdom, they argued, with Snow in permanent exile and Regina otherwise childless. They even had the gall to suggest that she could keep Red as a lover on the side if she so wished after the farce of a wedding. Just so long as she put the welfare of the realm above her own personal desires, they didn't care what ' _seedy activities_ ' occurred behind closed doors. Enraged past the point of logical response, she disbanded the Council for an entire month on the spot and then issued an insistence of her own that if anyone dared to denigrate her relationship with Red in such a way ever again, they would be roasted on a spit in the square as an example. She had wanted to do so much more but held back out of respect for Red's more sensitive scruples.

The threat worked insofar as it put an end to the open sedition, though Regina knew it would not stop the nobles' discontent. However irate she was at them for daring to pose such a disgusting solution to the glaring problem of her lack of a suitable heir, their worries were legitimate if viewed from an objective lens. The power of the nobility depends upon the favor of the monarchy, a monarchy whose succession was by no means secure. So long as she remains childless, their futures are uncertain. Uncertainty breeds anxiety. Anxiety produces paranoia. Paranoia begets recklessness, which if left unchecked usually erupts into violence. It is a vicious progression the kingdom cannot afford to reach its natural conclusion. Thus the nobles' implied threat. Regicide is not off the table for those whose vested interest lies in the continued stability of the realm. It has happened before, many times. History books are littered with examples of kings and queens whose refusal to play the game pushed the nobility to the limit and then paid the ultimate price for their obstinance.

The problem was not that she was, or is to date, wholly indifferent to their restlessness so much as she felt such conviction about the subject that she could honestly say she prefers death to the alternative. However desperate the kingdom is for an heir, she will be no one's broodmare. That she is incapable of becoming pregnant and that there are possible fixes for her self-inflicted infertility is beside the point. She will never, ever betray Red and had assumed that sentiment was reciprocated.

To her immense shock, upon being informed of the council's suggestion later that night, Red actually agreed with them. To a degree, anyway.

* * *

" _The kingdom does need an heir," Red said sorrowfully, plucking absently at her skirts as they sat at the emptied dinner table. Regina had waited to broach the subject until they had eaten, believing the ensuing discussion would likely ruin both of their appetites. Sadly, as usual she was correct. Her stomach curled into a knot at Red's next statements. "They're not wrong about that. The nobles need to know their future isn't insecure and so does everyone else. For that reason alone, their point isn't unreasonable. Before you go telling them a second time where they can shove their suggestion, you should give it some serious thought. And besides, you not having an heir negatively impacts the entire kingdom. I'm not worth sacrificing the welfare of so many innocent people over."_

" _You are sure as hell are to me," Regina insisted, perturbed that Red was defending the absurdity in the first place. She didn't care a lick that the kingdom would undoubtedly be plunged into chaos should something happen to her before she could somehow produce an heir. "Don't you realize by now that nothing else is more important to me than you? The crown, the sniveling nobles incessantly pandering for my favor, the unwashed masses I've no practical use for...they are meaningless in comparison."_

" _That's not true," Red passionately countered. "You care, you just won't – or can't – admit it. How many times have I seen you intervene on behalf of the helpless? When there is a famine and people are starving in some remote corner of the realm, you send grain and corn from the castle's surplus reserves. You have lightened the tax load on the common folk, transferring much to those who can more ably bear it. Real justice is being dealt now. Corruption is being weeded out everywhere. The people's voices are being heard again. You are becoming a champion of the disenfranchised, and it pains me that you can't see how far you've come. Your people are learning to love you, and I know you love them, too. You can deny that until you're blue in the face and I won't stop believing it."_

 _Regina had sighed and stood to briefly turn away from her wife's insistent gaze. "Even if that were accurate, and I'm not saying that it is, to keep the throne and concede to these absurd demands would mean losing you." When Red began to protest, Regina hushed her with a raised finger. "I know you think you could bear sharing me, but I assure you sooner or later the strain would break you just as surely as it would break me. I would just as soon relinquish the throne and keep you than the opposite. My feud with Snow is no longer my primary reason for living, so I've no need anymore of the power and reach the crown affords me. You make me happy, which is all I've ever really wanted. I won't give that up just to appease a flock of gluttonous, honking geese who've been fed too much for too long by my apparently excessive generosity."_

" _I'm glad I make you so happy," Red said. Rising herself, she sidled up behind Regina and slid her arms around her waist. She then pulled Regina back flush with her body so that she could rest her chin on her shoulder. "I'm also glad you've stopped hunting Snow. And while I agree the council needs to be put in their place on some issues, I think you're wrong about not needing the throne. You do, just not for yourself. The people need you."_

 _When Regina scoffed and tried to extricate herself, Red pulled her back and fixed her with a stern gaze over her shoulder. "You don't believe me, huh? Well answer me this: who would replace you should you abdicate? What would happen to the kingdom under the care of someone bound to be made of lesser stuff than you? In my unsolicited opinion, things would go back to the way they were where the poor had no voice and no power and were used and abused on a daily basis by nobles and rich merchants who only care about furthering their own agendas. You're changing things here, slowly but surely making them better so that this kingdom exists not just to serve the wealthy but all of its citizens. So as much as I hate to agree with the council on this, they are right that you have to do something. This is my home and these are my people, too, and I love them. I want what's best for them, and that is you being their Queen. For that reason alone, you should listen to what they are trying to tell you."_

 _Shaking her head in the negative, Regina swiveled in Red's arms and grasped her lover's face between gentle yet unyielding hands. Her face stern, she said, "Absolutely not. I will not allow anyone in my bed except you. Should the need for an heir prove urgent, we can discuss other means such as adopting, but I won't entertain any further debate on the matter of me marrying anyone else. You are mine and I am yours. End of discussion."_

* * *

The definitive nature of her assertion concluded the argument for the time being. Red enjoys many liberties with her no one else did, but she also knows when it is unwise to press her luck. That was one such occasion. Two weeks after, Regina proposed marriage to seal the deal, forever ending any further schemes of the nobility to import a pliable husband of station for their unwed Queen.

That decision garnered a fair share of opposition, even from her most trusted advisers, who could see only the negative ramifications of a triply taboo union. Not only was their Queen slumming so low as to crown a peasant, but she was doing so strictly for love and that with a member of her own sex. The outrage lasted well beyond the wedding, which took place less than a year later. Some of it has yet to die down to this day.

For the most part the nobles came around, if not due to Regina's sincere threats than to how competent a co-ruler Red proved herself to be. All the same, the rumblings over the lack of a suitable heir are beginning to grow audible again, which indicate she is facing a potential crisis lest she address the unrest with all due haste. The nobles have shown remarkable restraint in failing to confront her head on, but they won't wait forever for her to solve the problem at her leisure. There is simply too much power and wealth riding on its successful resolution. If she continues to drag her feet, they will more than likely attempt to resolve it for her, resulting in a lot of unnecessary drama. Perhaps they may even foster a spark of rebellion she cannot afford to quash with a heavy hand as she would have in the past. The Dark Days, which has become the preferred appellative for her reign of terror as the Evil Queen, of her ruling primarily through fear and violence are over. She's shown everyone her soft underbelly, now she's reaping the bitter harvest.

That said, as Red pointed out so many years ago, the expectation for her to provide an heir is not unreasonable. However annoying and unfair, it is her duty as sovereign not only to secure the kingdom's present prosperity but to do so without sacrificing its future. As much as she'd like to maintain the current situation indefinitely, doing so is no longer feasible.

Deny it as she might, she is not getting any younger, nor is Red, though no one can tell Red has aged a day in the seven years they've been together. Regina is not so lucky as to escaped the ravages of time. The subtle hint of crow's feet around her eyes and the plodding escalation of fragility in her joints offers irrefutable evidence that she is a woman frightfully close to cresting over to the wrong side of the hill. The time for raising a family is about to pass her by and everyone – especially the nobles – is painfully aware of that undeniable fact.

On a positive note, now that she and Red have settled nicely into their marriage, the concept of adoption no longer seems all that impractical. Their little family is rock solid. The trust they have built day-by-day is only surpassed by the soaring heights of their mutual devotion. No one knows her like Red does and Red can say the same. Their relationship has usurped the maniacal drive for vengeance as the foundation of her very being. It is unshakable and strong and able to weather just about any storm life can throw at it. Adding to it a feeble, needy, greedy human being who doesn't understand the concept of privacy or quiet will not break them. Will a baby hamper them in other areas? Undoubtedly, but she is confident they can handle any hurdles that come along with becoming parents.

The only barrier remaining is Regina herself. Unfortunately, that is a seemingly insurmountable obstacle. There are less minutes in a day than reasons she is not fit to be a mother. Not that the Council should be made privy to those well founded insecurities.

"There is no need for such dramatic measures to be taken," Tremaine says, ignorant of Regina's internal dilemma. "I am positive granting a few minor favors, perhaps extra tax allowances for the year or budgetary increases to relevant districts, along with a simple declaration of your intent to expeditiously resolve the crisis will suffice to allay their fears."

Regina's eyes narrow dangerously. _Is the woman seriously trying to blackmail me? In the middle of a Council session? Has she lost her mind?_ Perhaps, she muses to answer her own rhetorical, little Drizella is leeching more than just milk from her mother's breast as she feeds. The thought of Tremaine losing invaluable brain cells with every wanton suckle of her infant daughter is so amusing she almost cracks a smile. Almost.

"Have you, like your dissident fellows, forgotten who wears the crown, Tremaine?" she asks aloud voice as sharp as her glare as she leans intimidatingly in Tremaine's direction. Tremaine visibly pales. _Good_ , Regina thinks, _that conniving hussy needs to be reminded of her place_. "Do not presume you have the subtlety or the intelligence to manipulate me. Like me, you won your title with what lies beneath your skirts as much as with a willingness to bloody your own hands. But that is as far as our similarities go. Trifle with me at your own peril. I've outmaneuvered far more brilliant minds than yours. I should also remind you of the warning I issued the last time this subject was referred to me. My opinion on the matter remains unchanged, as do my promises to punish those disrespectful enough to suggest I peddle my wife's dignity for the sake of insuring their purses stay as fat as their bellies."

That was essentially what they were attempting to strong arm her into doing, and though they will never openly admit to it, their aim is the same at present. In royal circles, anything short of natural reproduction is regarded as a last ditch emergency resort to securing the viability of the next generation. As the council has, since the first confrontation concerning this subject, been made aware that she cannot conceive, their focus has shifted. Now they have their sights set on Red, who is in the flower of her youth and whose reproductive anatomy is fully functional. None of the craven members present today possess the spine to state their wishes directly, but it is an unspoken certitude that they would much prefer for her to pick a suitable nobleman that would pass muster and then allow him to impregnate Red. Seeing as Red is a werewolf, she is nearly guaranteed to be of robust fertility and even more so during Wolf's Time. Thus in all likelihood it would only take one encounter to bear fruit.

Logically, it makes a certain perverse sort of sense to permit this travesty, but that does not mean it is ever going to happen. Whether or not Red would be willing to make such a repugnant sacrifice is irrelevant when Regina is not. No, if she is to assure the future of her line, it will be adoption or nothing at all.

Upon registering the Queen's threat, Tremaine returns to her seat without another word as if afraid her legs can no longer hold her up. Regina's victorious grin tragically does not last more than a few seconds.

"With respect, Majesty, Lady Tremaine's suggestion is not wholly without merit," Lord Villeneuve-Beaumont pipes up. A man of some heft, he was an incredibly wealthy merchant who purchased his Lordship by defeating the Ogres during the most recent in an age old series of wars. That he gave up his only child to the Dark One in the process only made the deed all the more impressive, or reprehensible depending on one's point of view. Regina is ambivalent toward him personally, though she has always respected his opinion. Their interests often align, particularly since Red befriended his gobliniphilic daughter. "You know if I agree with the good Lady, it is only out of extreme necessity." This is true. Lord Maurice dislikes Lady Tremaine almost as much as she does, which is why she does not immediately eviscerate him for coming to Tremaine's defense. "The nobility is concerned, deeply so, and I fear if the line of succession is not guaranteed soon, they will have cause to escalate their dissatisfaction. Your Majesty has many enemies of the surrounding kingdoms. They will not have any trouble finding allies with which to conspire."

Regina fixes him with an ugly sneer that does not perturb him a bit. "Let them commit treason if they dare. I'll crush them like the pathetic ants they are!"

"I have no doubt Your Majesty could do precisely that. But what would be left when an accounting is made after that reckoning?" Maurice counters calmly. "We here count ourselves fortunate to be in your good graces, but that attitude does not extend to the majority of our fellows outside this council. As Your Majesty well knows, the nobility is, in general, populated by snakes in the grass. They may betray you with a bite as soon as leave you be, but they do serve a purpose in keeping the vermin at bay."

Aside from his disgust for the common folk being unbecoming a man whose status proximity was much closer to them, he has a point. The nobility plays a critical role in maintaining the stability of the realm's social order. Without them, law and order would break down. Taxes would quickly dry up. Soldiers would soon go unpaid. Factions would soon form and divisiveness exponentially increase. What then? Civil war, that's what. The opinion of the ordinary citizen where the Crown is concerned may have improved dramatically these past seven years, but even their vastly superior numbers could not protect Regina from a violent uprising of the upper classes. Make no mistake, she would send multitudes to the grave before they subdued her, but her magic and skill with the blade are not without limitations. She would be either dead or exiled before any organized resistance could form that might save her.

Worse yet, in the least acceptable scenario involving her assassination Red would likely be captured and kept alive to be sold as chattel for whatever brute the nobles import to sit upon the throne. Regina being betrayed to her death is one thing. Red being condemned to a fate she knows firsthand to be worse than death is another altogether. If she were still unattached, she would have already dealt with this head on, and viciously, but she is not and thus cannot. There is someone she loves more than herself now. Red's safety and happiness is preeminent over her own, which means she is going to have to make concessions, and that galls her to the ragged edges of nausea.

"You're right," she says with a forlorn sigh, collapsing into her chair. "I...I am aware something must be done. I know it seems otherwise, but I am not insensitive to the concerns of the nobility. I have put this off too long and have only myself to blame for being cornered. I should not have put my discomfort over the good of the kingdom. That said, I require more time to come up with a solution that works for both me and my wife. They have waited this long; they can wait another year. I would appreciate if you would confer my decision to them, Lord Maurice, along with this message: my concession is not without conditions. If I so much as suspect they are plotting behind my back again or if I hear a solitary whisper regarding their unspoken but evident desire to turn my wife into a broodmare, I will descend upon them with a wrath that Zeus himself cannot equal."

"I make no promises, but I'll see what I can do," Lord Maurice says, actually showing the sympathy Tremaine had claimed the other members of the council felt for her dilemma. Unlike the rest of the lot, he understands what it's like to actually be in love with a spouse. As a merchant, he was afforded the luxury of marrying for love instead of having settled for a politically beneficial arrangement as virtually all the other nobles did. It's a pity his wife passed away before his ascension. From her infrequent encounters with Belle and the glorified maid's scant descriptions, Regina thinks she would have liked the lovely Lady Colette a great deal. "Perhaps," Maurice adds delicately, "I could make more headway if I had a solemn oath that you will make a decision within that time frame."

Regina nods, all of her energy having drained out of her. It was not easy to admit her responsibility in this boondoggle. "You have it. In front of these witnesses, I swear by the power vested in me by my crown. Calm the waters for me and within a year's time I will produce a viable heir."

At her declaration, the entire council breathes a sigh of relief. Lord Maurice, having taken charge, gives her an encouraging smile. "Thank you, Your Majesty. I will relay the news promptly and inform you as to the response."

She gestures aimlessly at the councilors downwind from her. She is fed up with their presence and wants to be left alone. "Very well. If there is nothing else, you are all dismissed until next week."

Lord Maurice gestures to the rest of the council, who stand and then bow in unison with him before filtering out of the chambers. Once she the last member exits and closes the door behind them, Regina stuffs a fist into her mouth and screams with all of her might. _Can't they just let me be happy? Will my efforts never be good enough?_

It's just like when she was a child. Everything she did her mother criticized. She clamps her eyes shut against the haughty derision from years gone by ringing in her head.

" _Stop slouching, child. You weren't raised to behave like an ogre!_ " is followed by, " _That's the wrong fork for an entrée, young lady. Leave the table at once and go to your room. You can do without dinner tonight._ " Next she hears, " _Are you trying to set a record for most mispronunciations in a minute? This tome is of basic difficulty! I simply don't understand where I went wrong with you. Perhaps we should restart your education at the alphabet._ " And finally, " _Must I tell you a thousand times? You always lower your head and then slightly bend it forward before dipping into a curtsy. Honestly, how am I to ever present you in court? You're an embarrassment to me, your father, and the rest of our house!_ "

Like with her mother, she's grown tired of having more and more and more demanded of her by people who should frankly be groveling at her feet for the privilege of drawing another breath. Were they unaware that she could snuff them all out in their sleep with a snap of her fingers? Have they so soon forgotten who she _used_ to be? Sometimes she thinks they have, and that makes her want to break out her old wardrobe to go along with a convenient reappearance of her malevolent streak. If she's being honest, the chances of that happening have increased exponentially over the last ten minutes. If the nobles possess any sense of self-preservation, they will accept the peace offering from Lord Maurice and be grateful she has agreed to put up with their nonsense another year rather than deal with them as the Evil Queen would have.

Now, if only she can figure out why she has lost her edge in the first place. Regina heaves out a forlorn, weary sigh. Her mother was right. Love has made her weak. Presently, however, she has no time for self-recrimination. There are urgent matters she must attend to.


	3. Tension Rising

**Standard Disclaimer** : These lovely characters ain't mine, I just play with them gently. Please don't sue me. The mistakes are mine, though.

* * *

 **Chapter 2** – Tension Rising

After departing the council chamber, Regina heads straight for the office of Misthaven's Supreme Military Commander. Mulan has been serving in that capacity, and the adjacent role of Chief Adviser to the Crown, for just over nineteen months. Most of her deployment to date has been spent in the field whipping the army into a shape that satisfactorily approaches her exacting Eastern standards. It is only recently that Mulan felt confident enough in the officers she personally retrained to delegate the vital task of maintaining an acceptable level of discipline throughout the various branches of the military. This means she is finally able to attend to other duties that were being neglected in the meantime, such as the copious amounts of paperwork incumbent upon the occupant of her current position. She also conducts daily debriefings with Regina or Red or both, and is expected to attend court with them as often as she is able. Needless to say, Mulan is a busy woman, which is just the way she likes it.

Taken as a whole, Mulan's appointment is one of the best decisions Regina has made in recent memory. It was also one of the most highly controversial. Elevating a foreigner, whose service to the realm was a fairly recent development, to the ultimate military post in the land was a calculated risk. Unsurprisingly there was a great deal of backlash. The nobles were especially aggrieved, as their ranks traditionally supplied the position regardless of the applicant's military service or lack thereof.

If people are generally resistant to change and highly xenophobic in nature, amongst the nobility those moral deficiencies are greatly exaggerated. Any and all interlopers are regarded as a threat and handled accordingly with suspicion bordering on paranoia that often gradually develops into tactical subversion, overt and otherwise. By contrast, those whose origins are not anchored to blood and soil are immediately besieged by every available weapon in their impressive arsenals with which to discredit the newcomer. For instance, as it was, crowning Red made waves that have yet to completely dissipate five years on; but had Red not been native to Misthaven, chances are the glancing threats leveled by the Council of Nobles would have been explicit broadsides. In that case, the choices available to Regina would have been to either voluntarily surrender the throne, give up Red, or refuse to do either and potentially plunge the country into a bloody conflict from which recovery would take decades. That is how rigid and insular the nobility is.

Imagine, then, a woman born in a land thousands of miles away, of which ninety-five percent of the born and bred aristocrats have never even heard, being entrusted with power second only to the ruling monarchs. Not only did Mulan command the might of the realm's armies, but she also oversaw the vast spy apparatus Regina had painstakingly constructed over more than a decade. It came as no surprise that upon announcing the replacement for the recently retired General Dru the entire council erupted into a frenzy of disbelieving shouts and vociferous condemnations. Had Regina not made plain her vehement displeasure at their disrespectful behavior, they might still be squawking to this day.

Of course, their falling into line quickly under the force of her will while inside the council chambers did not extend to the outside. In short order, many reneged on their acquiescence and proceeded to make Mulan's job as difficult as possible. Liars, the whole rotten lot of them.

No prior Commanding General has endured as much antagonism from the noble houses as Mulan. The first several months of her service were constantly frustrated by Lords or Ladies randomly wielding their titles to force allowance of spot troop inspections or to tie her up in mountains of completely unnecessary formalities or traditions they insisted to be the opposite. Several recalled locally mustered regiments from key strategic deployments out of bald spite. All sneered down their noses at her during public functions and ridiculed her at ever opportunity. Regina watched all of this without intervening, which required much restraint considering her considerable outrage. The guiding principle behind her inaction was a keen desire to avoid the appearance of subverting Mulan's newly conferred authority, and furthermore she wished to avert any implication of there being even a minuscule hint of mistrust between them. Regrettably she would come to regret staying her hand when these unending nuisances eventually culminated in a proper disaster.

That first winter of Mulan's service saw record lows in temperature and highs in snowfall accumulation over much of the country. While she was out on extended patrol with a company of footmen, a particularly brutal storm blew in from nowhere, catching them all out in the open. As misfortune would have it, the patrol was slogging through lands belonging to an obstinate Lord who was the leading voice of opposition to Mulan's promotion. The coward chose that most dire moment to express his discontent by denying her request for emergency quarter, and then went so far as to threaten to sic his personal force upon her tiny outfit should she refuse to comply. The purpose of the patrol was supposed to be observation so that any holes in training could be corrected. Instead, turned away from safety and shelter, the company spent a frigid evening constructing ramshackle shelters out of any available material. Mulan then passed the entire night without sleep tending to her suffering soldiers and fighting to keep the fires going against the driving snow. By morning, a third of the company had frostbite – including Mulan, who thankfully did not lose any fingers and toes unlike many of her soldiers – and another third came down with respiratory illnesses, the worst cases of which developed into full blown pneumonia. Three died of exposure during the night and an additional five of ensuing disease.

When Regina learned of this travesty, she flew into an ungodly rage. After assembling every dissenting noble upon the palace courtyard, including the perpetrator, she called the offending Lord forward and executed him on the spot. To drive the point home, she used the bastard's own sword to lop his head off, then wiped it clean upon the twitching corpse's clothes before presenting it to his closest friend and clandestine lover. It wasn't the first time Red watched her kill someone, but it was the first she had done so in a fit of unbridled wrath. And while she never wants to see her wife look at her so fearfully again, she does not regret her actions. That was the end of the nobles' resistance to Mulan. It also served as the occasionally necessary reminder to the uppity patricians that while they have some authority within the realm, they were also _her_ subjects.

Fortunately, the results that have rolled in since speak for themselves. When Mulan has yet to lose a battle and worked undeniable wonders with the army, neither her exotic ancestry nor her deep aversion to court politics can be used against her as a smear. Slowly but surely, she is winning over hearts and minds with her quiet demeanor, sharp tactical and strategic acumen, no nonsense leadership style, and a dutiful attention to detail that she uses as effectively to verbally disarm opponents as to complement her friends. Those who continue to oppose her are increasingly ostracized in the face of her impressive successes.

 _Yes,_ Regina thinks as she nears Mulan's office located within the east wing of the castle, _she is excelling even more than I had hoped._ And that's saying something, because she was as confident as could be of Mulan's abilities beforehand.

Upon spotting the Queen's approach, the guard posted outside Mulan's office grants Regina entrance without requiring her to issue a stern command.

"My, aren't you such a good boy. Your General has you well trained," she says, smirking at the young soldier who ducks his head in obeisance as she passes through the threshold and steps into the office.

Not much larger than the chambers upon the upper floors assigned to castle staff, Mulan's office is a decorative representation of the occupant. The only pieces of furniture are a desk as stern in appearance as the warrior seated behind it and a high-backed chair with minimal padding that is sure to leave a number of aches and pains behind after a long day seated upon it. Few ornaments are to be found upon the surface of the desk, only a statue of a serpentine dragon carved from marbled rhodonite she lovingly refers to as Mushu and an ordinary wooden spindle once belonging to a spinning wheel whose provenance Mulan refused to elaborate upon. _It was a gift from someone special_ , she would say, then dismiss any further discussion of the peculiar memento.

Tall cedar shelves line two of the walls, holding a myriad of tomes, nearly all relating to the art and philosophy of warfare, command administration, and a vast assortment of military histories both foreign and domestic. Most have been acquired over generations, each Commanding General adding his or her contribution to the collection for their own benefit as well as to the furtherance of their replacement's success. There are a few manuals and manuscripts that Mulan procured at great expense from her homeland back east while a handful of others she has composed, compiled, and bound into book form herself. The other two walls are bare save for a hand-carved wall hook for Mulan's sheathed katana, a priceless heirloom passed down in her family for more generations than can be accounted. The weapon hangs proudly next to the door, both a warning to those entering as to whom they will soon be facing and a constant reminder to Mulan of her deep, unwavering sense of duty.

Inside the office, Mulan – as is typical on days when there is no troop drilling scheduled – is nose deep in a monumental pile of reports.

"Your Majesty, I wasn't expecting you," the stoic warrior greets upon looking up from her work. She makes to stand but Regina holds up a hand to halt her. Frowning, Mulan tilts her head to regard her intently. "Normally you don't arrive for the daily briefing until much later in the evening. Also, you told me yesterday that you were taking the afternoon off. Is something wrong?"

"I'm not sure," Regina answers, choosing to remain standing. She doesn't expect to be here very long. "I've just come from a meeting with the Council of Nobles where they expressed universal concern regarding rumors trickling in from Drakkenhall. A number of villages in uncomfortable proximity to our border have been put to the torch. I gave them my word I would consult with you since you also serve as our Head Spymaster. Have any of your assets gleaned viable intelligence about what – or who – might be the cause of these events?"

Mulan's frown deepens. "Viable intelligence? No. Nothing that can be verified. I heard of these incidents, though. About a week ago, I read a missive from the garrison commander on the border about those same rumors. It was compelling enough that I took the liberty of instructing my best people in Drakkenhall to investigate. They are doing so as we speak. And while they have no definitive theories, I can now at least confirm the rumors are true. In fact, I was just reading the initial reports when you came in. Eight villages in total have been destroyed."

"Eight?" Regina's brows raise. That is not an insignificant number of devastated municipalities. "That is worrying."

"Agreed. Very worrying. My gut tells me something foul is afoot."

A dark brow arches at the General's vagary. "Care to elaborate? I know you and Red share an inadvisable reliance on instinct, but I'll need more than that if I'm to make the best decision on how to handle this situation."

"Well..." Mulan pauses, scratches her chin, then levels Regina with a sharp gaze that showcases her rapier-edged acuity. "According to our sources, loss of life was minimal, suggesting it was not overt aggression by marauding bandits, a foreign invasion, or an ogre incursion. At the same time, it's too widespread to be random. This is no act of the gods. The reports detail the devastation to be precise. Every last public building was reduced to ashes along with the private abodes of key citizens, while noncritical assets remain virtually intact. Normally I would conclude there was arson involved, as there is clearly a human hand guiding the flames. But in most arson cases, there is always collateral damage. That doesn't seem to be the case here, which leads me to suspect the culprit is someone wielding sorcery."

"A sorcerer? Do you really think so?" Regina asks, heart rate picking up speed.

Mulan is rarely off in her assessments, and the possibility of some rogue witch operating so close to Misthaven has her stomach twisting into a painful knot. A magician capable of razing a number of villages without being detected is a definitely a cause for alarm. Such an individual is as cunning as they are powerful, a combination that is especially lethal.

Regina does not fear for her own safety so much as she does for her kingdom. And primarily for her wife. While Red is highly resistant to magic in her fur, on two feet she is as vulnerable as any ordinary human – except during Wolf's Time, that is. With the full moon not scheduled for another three weeks, Regina will need to be on high alert. She also makes a mental note to double Red's dedicated guard until the situation has resolved.

Mulan's brows draw together, revealing her own concern. "Unfortunately, I do. I've seen it before back east. Sorcerers love to sow discord and chaos before striking out at their true target. When a person has power like that, senseless slaughter and wanton carnage become a sideshow for their game instead of an objective. The direct approach is too mundane or boring for them, I suppose."

The assessment is brutally accurate, as Regina knows firsthand. During the Dark Days, she often hit tangential targets for the sake of her own amusement or as an intimidation tactic. The former more so than the latter, as she expects to be true in the majority of cases with power-drunk, morally deficient magicians such as she once was.

"Yes, but to what end?" she asks, not liking the direction this conversation is going at all. "Why the villages closest to our border? Are they trying to draw us into conflict with Stefan?"

Mulan acknowledges the possibility with a tip of her chin. "Maybe. It's too early to tell. In my experience, one never knows the real aspirations of a sorcerer until blood is flowing in the streets." Upon catching Regina paling, she grimaces. "Forgive my candor. Rest assured, I'm monitoring the situation closely. I'll protect you, my Queen, whatever the cost."

"It's not me I'm concerned about," Regina says, voice low and rough.

"I know." Mulan smiles sympathetically.

On Mulan's first day as Captain of the Royal Guard, Regina had made her own safety in the list of priorities clear. _Forget everything you've ever been taught about the value assigned to persons within your chain of command. From now on, Mulan, whether in peace or emergency, I am your second concern. Red is always to come first. Do you understand?_ Mulan had understood back then just the same as she does right now.

"It goes without saying I won't allow her to be harmed, either," Mulan then says, an affirmation of Regina's train of thought.

Regina believes the assertion with all of her heart. Red is the only person in Misthaven who can actually get Mulan to regularly smile and sometimes even laugh. Their friendship is special. Perhaps even more so than the one Red shares with Snow White. For that reason alone, she knows Mulan will go the extra mile to protect her from whatever threat looms so ominously over the darkening horizon.

The problem is that she can't afford to keep Mulan here to make good on her promise. When she says as much, her friend appears perplexed.

"I wish there were another option," Regina adds to clarify her meaning, "but there is no one else I trust more to keep our people safe. That's why I dropped by. I need for you to ride to the border with Drakkenhall and personally shore up the defenses there."

To her credit, Mulan takes the news in stride. She is, if anything else, the most unflappably professional individual Regina has ever met. "Understood. When would you like me to leave?"

"Tomorrow if at all possible."

Like the quintessential soldier that she is, Mulan nods succinctly then pushes out of her chair to stand. "I'll make the arrangements immediately then."

"Thank you, General," Regina says, feeling a sense of relief wash over her. Knowing Mulan will be present at the crux of the presently simmering crisis puts her mind more at ease. Mulan has never once failed in a task, and she doesn't expect her finest warrior to start now.

After a deep bow, Mulan snaps to attention. "Of course, my Queen. I live to serve."

Regina only barely holds back a frustrated sigh. Will the woman ever let down her defenses? After three years, she still hasn't gotten her name to pass through those perpetually severe lips. Nor has she been able to convince Mulan that she doesn't have to be so damn formal all the time.

"I hope you know you're more valuable to Red and me than that," she says, determining now is the perfect chance to bang her head against this unforgiving wall one more time. "You are not just our most capable and trusted adviser, but our friend."

Mulan remains frustratingly proper, ever the unsolvable riddle wrapped in a conundrum. "I do know that, Your Majesty. But I cannot change my nature."

"Nor would I ask you to. I would, however, ask that you exercise caution." Seeing that she's not going to make headway being approachable, she self-corrects for an authoritarian inflection that will at least make a dent. "Actually, belay that. I'm not asking, I'm insisting. Do not take any unnecessary risks with your life. The resources of the kingdom are at your disposal to solve this puzzling problem without putting yourself in harm's way. Consider it an order if you must, but I'll have your compliance on this before I allow you to leave."

"I lead from the front, my Queen. It is my way." Regina clenches her jaw and slowly exhales through her nostrils in irritation. Noting that, Mulan adopts a less rigid stance. _Finally_. "That said, I will not draw my sword unless I have no other recourse."

Regina nods curtly. "That is an acceptable compromise."

An awkward pause develops then, and after a few too many seconds of it, she decides it is high time for a strategic withdrawal. She's made all the progress she's going to this afternoon and is itching to get back to her chambers. Back to her wife.

"Well, I had better let you go on with your business so I can get on with mine. I promised Red I would spend the afternoon with her and I've already overshot my target by more than an hour. She won't be happy."

Mulan actually cracks the barest hint of a smile at that. "Misfires happen to the best of us. Would you be so kind as to give her my regards when you see her?"

"You should do that in person," Regina says. "You know she'll be upset if you leave without saying goodbye. So will I for that matter."

"Good point. I will drop by in the morning before I set out."

"Very well. In case I am unavailable when you arrive, allow me to wish you a safe journey. Take a handpicked squad and a murder of trained ravens with you. When you reach the garrison send word back to me at once. I'll expect daily reports of your progress to follow."

"Thank you, my Queen. It will be as you have instructed." Mulan then offers her another precise bow, to which Regina responds with a nod of approval and gratitude.

"Good luck, General," Regina says, then turns on her heel and departs.

After leaving the General's office, she wastes no time traversing the many corridors winding through the Dark Palace, on her way to the Royal Quarters. Upon reaching the safety of her bedchambers, all she wants is to curl up on the chaise lounge with her wife and let Red's love soothe away the stress clogging her pores and hammering away at her brain.

Those plans go up in smoke when she draws near enough to hear the chatter belonging to two female voices through the thick oaken door. Their conversation is punctuated by airy giggles that give Regina the wrong idea, which is the worst possible scenario that could have happened considering her current state of mind. The Council confronting her today already had her hackles raised and this only stokes the embers that had since died down into a rejuvenated inferno.

Storming inside, she catches Red in an embrace with their handmaid that, while her rational side recognizes as perfectly innocent, is yet far too intimate for her tastes. The way the young, pretty Iris clings to Red's arm and smiles as she leans in so close their noses are almost touching sets off a spark of outrageous jealousy. That Red isn't rebuffing what Regina deems as inappropriate proximity boils the blood coursing through her veins.

"Get out, Iris," she all but shouts, grimly satisfied to see the enviably shapely handmaid jump away from Red like she's been burned. The guilty look they share is a spur thrust into Regina's side. "Now!"

Eyes blown wide, Iris stammers, clearly terrified of her Queen's rage. "Y-yes, Your Majesty," she manages after a moment gawking uselessly. Ducking her head, she rushes out the door as if fire is nipping at her heels. In a manner of speaking, it is.

With Iris gone and her chest being seared with caustic fury, Regina sets about pacing the length of the chambers. Perhaps wearing a rut in the floor will help diminish the anger burning behind her eyes and building unsustainable pressure at her temples. Those factors, along with the telltale throbbing at the back of her skull indicates the onset of a blistering migraine.

It takes Red a bit to recover from the shock of her dramatic entrance. And at her poor treatment of their handmaid. Tentatively, she approaches, hands extended out in front of her in a show of innocuous intent.

"Hey, come on. There's no need for this. You need to calm the hell down," she firmly orders as she reaches Regina, who halts her pacing the moment strong hands find purchase at her elbows. "If you keep this fretting up you're going to give yourself a headache. Unless you _want_ to land yourself abed for an entire day."

What Red said is true. Once or twice per month, sometimes longer, either stress or a rapid change in the weather incite a massive migraine that renders Regina utterly useless. Unable to bear even faint sources of light, all she can do is throw on a night mask and sleep off the relentless attacks. During the worst ones that hurt so terribly she whimpers and cries without even realizing, Red refuses to abandon her side and regularly applies cool, damp cloths to her forehead that are marginally effective at prying away the vice jaws clamped around her temples. Red being present doesn't relieve the agony, but it does supply a reassurance of value far beyond pain relief; when she's at her weakest, she is never alone.

Be that as it may, she would prefer to avoid triggering another excruciating spell. So when, without another word, Red gathers her into a secure embrace and guides her head into the crook of her neck, she does not put up even a shred of resistance. The steady thrum against her ear of a strong heart pumping blood through vital vessels and the pressure of warm hands that begin rubbing up the length of her back help to assuage the ravening, jealous beast that momentarily took control of her faculties. All at once, she feels the tension ebb from her body, a sweet release that frees of her of an oppressive weight that has been incrementally crushing her over the past few hours.

"Better?" Red asks when Regina heaves a contented sigh, suddenly weary to the bone.

"Very much. Thank you," Regina murmurs against the exceptionally warm skin of Red's neck, her sanity having finally returned.

Regina feels Red gently smile down at her. "You're welcome." When she pulls away after a while of enjoying their closeness, the smile is gone. "You know, there really was no reason for you to be so mean to Iris. She didn't deserve that. Whatever you thought you walked in on, I promise it wasn't that. You've met her husband and know she is every bit as happily married as we are."

Mortification at her behavior colors Regina's cheeks. Not for the first time, she feels like an idiotic child who has just thrown an inexcusable tantrum. She trusts Red implicitly and absolutely. Since they became a couple, many have shamelessly thrown themselves at Red. Those who approached respectfully were always turned down politely while those who came on aggressively were spurned in kind. There are few things in life Regina is as sure of as Red's fidelity, the sun rising each morning or the moon at night being two of them. And it isn't as if she has reason to suspect Iris of harboring forbidden feelings when she is, as Red so aptly stated, every bit as happily married as they are.

"I know," she whispers repentantly. In the back of her mind, she makes a note to apologize to Iris at the first opportunity. "I'm sorry. I...I should not have taken it out my frustrations on her."

"No you shouldn't have. Any particular reason you're so agitated?"

Red's question is posed gently as she rubs lightly calloused palms up the length of Regina's upper arms. The toughness of Red's hands built up over years of grueling toil is slowly giving way to the softness of royalty, and Regina isn't sure whether she likes it not. Each day, it seems, her opinion is different. Some days she loves the new texture against her skin, how it produces different sensations in different areas of her body, and can coax out knots in her muscles with such delicious finesse. Others, she misses the way the callouses would feel like they were scouring her skin, removing old dead layers in favor of the fresh, and how they provided a little pain with her pleasure as they swept greedily over her erogenous zones. In the end, though, she of the mind to not care so long as the hands – whether soft or rough – are attached to Red's arms.

"The council meeting today went poorly," Regina answers after a momentary pause, then winces as much at the understatement as at the unwelcome reminder of her oath to the council.

Swearing to produce an heir within a year's time had effectively quelled their malcontent. But at what cost? Not only is she now honor-bound to do something that utterly terrifies her, but Tremaine's contemptuous little speech provoked her into reissuing a threat not a single soul in those chambers would have dismissed as mere bluster. Lord Maurice alone was not a resident of the palace during the Dark Days.

"To say the very least," she adds, thinking of how the council members are likely to be walking on egg shells around her for some time, "next week will be interesting. As with Iris just now, I believe I successfully reiterated their many reasons to be afraid of me."

"Do you wanna talk about what happened?" Red asks, being her supportive self. There is no point trying to estimate how many times Regina has decompressed to her after particularly difficult meetings. Red invariably listens as if there's nothing else she'd rather be doing than indulging Regina's colorful ranting and raving about the incompetent morons she has to work with. The woman has the patience of a saint.

"I'd prefer not to if it's all the same to you," Regina replies, not eager to discuss the reason she became so perturbed. Having it out again with the council was stressful enough. She has no interest in taking it up again with Red. She needs a quiet evening in her wife's arms, not another argument, which is where the topic will inevitably lead.

Sensing Regina's reluctance to confide in her, Red moves back a step and takes her hand. "Alright. What would you like to talk about then?"

Regina shakes her head and heaves a weary sigh. "Nothing at the moment. I just want...I need...oh, bother. Damn it all!" Sometimes it's still hard for her to admit she's not invulnerable and that she requires an affectionate touch like any other human being. Frustrated at herself for her inability to ask for comfort she knows will be given without question, she flails her free hand as she says, "Just forget about it. It's getting late. Let's have an early dinner brought up. You're probably starving and I haven't had anything since breakfast."

Red, unfortunately, isn't having any of her deflection. "Hey. Don't do that. Don't deny yourself for my sake. Yes, I am hungry, but for you it can wait. Being here for you is more important than accommodating my greedy stomach. So, what is it?" Regina fights with herself for a several seconds before Red slips back into her personal space. Long arms wrap low around her waist and tug her forward until their hips make contact. "Oh, love, stop torturing yourself. Just tell me what you need. I love you. Unconditionally. I'm not gonna judge. Whatever it is, I'll be glad to do it if it's within my power."

Tucking her bottom lip between her teeth, Regina cannot hold in a whimper of want. _Pathetic_. Her mother's voice in the back of her head condemns her weakness and berates her for letting a scrawny peasant so effortlessly break down defenses that took decades of painstaking effort to construct. It takes all of her strength to banish the insidious whispers into the vault buried in the deepest recesses of her mind where they belong.

"Could you hold me again?" she asks, voice barely a whisper. Already she is leaning in, her body having betrayed her will before her mind could catch up. "Just for a while longer?"

The empathetic pained noise Red makes reminds her of a dog who's just seen it's owner injured. "Sweetie, of course I will! C'mere," she says, and then with a hand pressed between Regina's shoulder blades, fits their torsos together.

Regina sinks into the embrace with the liquidity of warm honey dripping from the comb in the middle of a sweltering summer afternoon. Needing to be even closer, she again tucks her face into Red's neck and breathes in a lung full of air as her wife begins murmuring an unending string of encouragements and endearments. As those smooth muliebral tones soothe her ears, the rich, wild scent unique to Red inundates her olfactory sense, causing a sweeping wave of serenity that washes away all of the tension from her mind and body. Like a daisy stem slowly unfurling from a knot, she feels her muscles and joints relax, knowing she's safe and supported by arms perfectly capable of holding her upright should her strength fail altogether. It wouldn't be the first time that has happened.

About four years ago, an earthquake rocked the northern regions of Misthaven. Infrastructure was destroyed on scales that baffled the imagination. The loss of industry set the economy back six months or more. Nearly two hundred fifty lives were lost. Regina had personally journeyed to inspect the damage. After thirty hours without sleep dealing with the calamitous fallout of a natural disaster no one was prepared for, she finally magicked herself back to the palace. She was so exhausted, she hadn't realized she was drawing energy from so much vapor. Needing a bastion of strength to prop her up, she sought out Red's embrace. Situated much as she is right now, Red swaying them to and fro to the pacifying rhythm of a kinetic lullaby, she promptly fell asleep standing up. If Red hadn't been what she is, she could not have held her up, not to mention hoisting her bridal style and carrying her from one end of the castle to the other to their chambers before ever-so-gently depositing her in their bed.

There is a deep sense of security in knowing Red's strength is always at her disposal. Every now and then she can afford to let go of the threadbare rope of control she precariously dangles by most days. So long as Red is by her side, there will always be someone willing and able to catch her lest she be dashed against the jagged rocks that await her at the bottom of a meteoric descent. No one else can handle her when she's a loose canon, bore packed with charge and shot, fuse in place and igniter licking at its highly flammable threads. No one else understands her when she's maudlin and mopey and irritable because she's been thinking about Daniel off and on all day. No one else gets the internal struggle to subdue the monster inside that some days presses so close to the surface that it can taste delicious freedom and the chance for a good old fashioned slaughter. Red alone knows how to talk her down from the ledge, recognizes when to give her a wide berth, can tell when it's time to stand toe to toe with her and fight out their differences, and senses with eerie accuracy when she needs a hug so badly it's embarrassing. Such as now.

"So...when I came in, you and Iris were embroiled in a cozy discussion." Regina pulls away after several minutes, using the age old tactic of a subject change when she starts to feel like she's indulged too much in her rediscovered touchy-feely, lovey-dovey side. When an arched, chocolate-colored brow shoots up, she realizes how that might come across. "I didn't mean it as an accusation. I'm merely curious. Care to fill me in or have you been sworn to secrecy?"

Sometimes Iris will confide in Red about her home life and ask their discussions remain private. Regina doesn't like that very much, though she can't really object seeing as Iris does the same with her on occasion.

"Not at all," Red replies, suspicions alleviated. "She was just telling me about John's plans for their anniversary in a couple months. He's been talking about taking them abroad. Iris has never been out of the country, you know. Come to think of it, why don't we do something for them. Oh! I know! We could arrange a trip for them to Chansiréne. You know, it's so beautiful there this time of year. I bet they'd love it, all that warm ocean air and the gorgeous beaches. And, oh, hey! Maybe we could go too if things aren't too busy around here. I've been thinking we needed a break what with tax accounting winding down, and I really wouldn't mind visiting Ariel and Eric. We haven't seen them since Melody was dedicated, and we did promise them, remember? And..."

And so it goes on. Once Red gets started about a subject she's passionate about, such as traveling the world, there is little stopping her. Regina doesn't mind, though. Red's voice is one of her very favorite things in the world. An afternoon passed listening to it so enlivened and invigorated is one well spent. So that's exactly what she does. With no regrets.


	4. Motherhood, a Frightening Prospect

**A/N** : So, this is a monster. Also there is tons of internal narration. This was, originally, the first chapter after the prologue, and much of this was written to further expand upon the background history this story is based on. Next chapter things will pick up. Should be Monday night.

 **Standard Disclaimer** : These lovely characters ain't mine, I just play with them gently. Please don't sue me. The mistakes are mine, though.

* * *

 **Chapter 3** – Motherhood, a Frightening Prospect

 **One Week Later**

Regina awakes to a twitching at her side. Groaning in protest, she shifts slightly, shoulders brushing against the soft, wavy hair tumbling down her bed partner's back. Red is sleeping soundly, facing away yet pressed as close as her body will allow, her back flush to Regina's arm and firm rear nestled against her hip. The soothing contact is further enhanced by the cozy heat radiating from a werewolf whose skin is often akin to a small furnace. Good thing, too, as the room has grown chilly in the absence of a roaring flame, the fire they refueled and stoked before retiring having petered out to dull orange embers.

Yawning so hard her jaw creaks, Regina rubs at her bleary eyes as she sits up slowly, careful not to wake Red, which is not an easy feat seeing as Red's heightened senses are capable of picking up a pin dropped on carpet from down the hallway. Fortunately Regina has a lot of practice at this, so with smooth movements that barely jostle the mattress, she maneuvers her torso upright and then props herself up by extending her arms out behind her, splayed fingers facing the headboard and palms flat upon the downy mattress. Once firmly anchored, she casts a weary, and wary, glance about the room – an old habit from the Dark Days when she had ample reason to entertain notions that some suicidal assassin might infiltrate her chambers in the night to stick a knife in her throat while she slept. That never happened, of course, but vestiges of the old paranoia remain, only now she is less concerned over her own safety as Red's.

Regina heaves a sigh of relief. Tonight there is not a hint of movement outside of her own within their chambers other than the steady rise and fall of Red's chest as she breathes. The only sound Regina can detect is the faint crackling and popping of the dying fire and a brisk autumn wind scratching and howling at the window panes of the great bay window jutting out of the northrn wall of the castle. With no cause for alarm to be found, she relaxes her study of the intimately familiar environment.

The chambers are still shrouded in shadow, sunrise not due for some hours yet, though she can make out details through the darkness. An antique dresser is pushed against the wall opposite their huge four-post bed, boasting storage enough to accommodate the undergarments, casual and sleepwear, and various sartorial accessories of two women – one of whom owns more clothes than the combined possessions of many modest villages. Upon the surface are an array of boxes containing their personal jewelry, some large and some small, along with an assortment of perfumes and oils, the latter of which are mainly for skincare, though a few are for Regina's hair, which requires more attention than Red's ridiculously perfect mane. Next to the dresser is a vanity, a tall adjustable ovular mirror held atop an oaken desk, padded chair with intricately engraved surfaces pushed beneath. Every night they are able, they brush one another's hair at that vanity, one hundred fluid strokes given while holding the other's eyes in the glass as they talk about the happenings of the day or the plans of tomorrow or their various hobbies and interests outside of ruling a kingdom that is growing nearly beyond the scope of comprehension.

To the left of the vanity and dresser is a long arched corridor leading to the balcony overlooking the eastern courtyard, the same balcony Regina once plummeted over and would have died had she not been ' _rescued_ ' by the most incompetent fairy to ever flit across the skies of Misthaven. To the right is the long wall common to the hallway of the Royal Wing, surface lined with paintings, three commissioned by Red and the others by Regina, all of which depict things or people they don't wish to forget. A portrait of Daniel is there amongst them, description of him supplied by Regina's memory, along with an image of Peter as he was remembered by Red. Red's grandmother Is also honored with a spot upon that wall, depicted as seated in a rocking chair, glasses perched low on her nose as she weaves a patchwork blanket. A painting of Perrault, Red's hometown, is also to be found there, portrayed as if viewing the quaint village from a vantage point upon the young, modest mountain range nearby. There is other art in the room as well, lush carpets from halfway across the known world, uniquely decorated drapes crafted from material Mulan called silk, figurines of horses and wolves upon wall mounted shelves, marble statues of Artemis and her fellow Olympians in the alcoves of the arched hallway leading to the balcony, and, of course, the most precious of all, the Crown Jewels – a magnificent collection of opulent golden diadems, tiaras, scepters, and ornate rings to adorn fingers and ears. Unless worn by one of Misthaven's Queens, the Crown Jewels remain on display against the inner wall within glass cases that are protected by defensive wards Regina painstakingly designed to resist virtually all forms of dismantling.

After ensuring her most favorite piece – a diadem called The Midnight Crown – is undisturbed, Regina settles back down in bed. As she heaves a long, tired sigh, Red whines in her sleep, not so much distressed as irritated by Regina having disturbed her, and then scoots even tighter against Regina's side. Honestly if Red were to get any closer, she would be on top of Regina. Not that such an outcome would be unpleasant.

There was a time Red's subconscious need for proximity was bothersome. Over the years spent as Leopold's wife and Snow White's step-mother, Regina developed an acute allergy to physical contact initiated without her consent. She had endured groping fingers and invasive appendages more nights than she cares to recount, and by day the constant, irritating pawing of a child she was forced to care for against her wishes. Upon seizing the crown, her lovers were privately taught through threats and acts of violence alike that she was in control of their trysts, while in public those foolish enough to so much as disturb the fabric of her dress without permission were met with swift reprisal. Many wayward digits were either broken or altogether removed before people learned to keep their grubby hands to themselves. Soon enough, no one dared to so much as breathe in her general direction and that was precisely how she liked it.

Looking back at those days, the polar shift in her tactile response is remarkably dramatic, or at least it is within the confines of the bedroom. Seven years of sleeping next to her beloved werewolf has made her almost as dependent on nocturnal contact as Red is. Those rare nights she has to sleep alone are intolerable. It's hard to get any rest at all when she's tossing and turning endlessly, sporadically reaching for an uncommonly warm body that is painfully absent. The silence of the night becomes increasingly oppressive as she strains to listen for the rhythmic sound of Red's breathing or the cute little noises she makes when she's dreaming. Sleep elixirs are a requirement whenever one of them has to travel, thus necessitating the other to stay behind to run the kingdom, and those provide a few inadequate hours at best. Although the herbal aids are sufficient to keep her functional, waking bleary eyed and run down is an unwelcome reminder of a mode of existence she has mercifully left behind.

Before Red assumed possession over half her bed and all of her heart, she was used to existing on very little sleep. Recurring nightmares plagued her to the point she was afforded only a handful of hours on the best nights and as little as an hour on the worst. By the time Red was sharing her bed on a regular basis, she had long since adapted to functioning on unhealthy portions of rest. But now she does not need to settle for paltry scraps. Red's proximity is a pacifier that quells those old terrors that once kept her awake until the wee hours of the night. She is still plagued by nightmares, as she always will be, but they are blessedly infrequent and far less intense. And while she still does not sleep more than six hours per night, those hours are more regenerative than they have been in over a decade.

Nightmares were not the only reason she once had trouble resting, either. Sharing a bed with Leopold had created a sense of claustrophobia that transformed them into isolation cells designed specifically to physically, emotionally, and psychologically torture her. Back then, crawling in under the covers next to her much older husband was a nightmarish scenario consisting of roiling nausea triggered by a clawing fear running up the length of her spine over whether or not the king would be in the mood that night. At the time, she was powerless to refuse his advances, as it was a privilege of his position to demand use of her body at his convenience. There was nothing in all the world she hated more than the feel of his hands on her flesh or the weight of his heft resting upon her, suffocating her as he destroyed with one grunted thrust at a time what little light she had left in her soul in the wake of Daniel's death. When the torment was over and he rolled off her, passing out soon thereafter, she could do little else besides curl up into a ball to mitigate her trembling. She would then either lay there for hours numbly or cry silently so as to not wake the callous brute back up.

Upon ridding herself of Leopold's loathsome presence, the first order of business was to torch the royal bedchambers, bed included. She watched the room burn from the courtyard below, secure in the knowledge the flames were contained by her magic. It was quite a spectacle. The grand windows had all burst from the heatwave, raining down glass onto the crowd gathered to witness the symbolic event. The purpose behind the act was not merely a method of purging any reminders of her late husband, but of declaring to the entire kingdom that she had no intention of suffering any further mentions of him. The message was clearly written by flame. If the nobility wished to keep their wealth and position, Leopold White's memory and name were to be regarded as he was, forever dead, reduced to ashes that were soon enough swept away and disposed of in the refuse pile behind the stables. A fitting end, she thought, to the possessions of a beast.

Sadly, while her efforts produced immediate results and made her very happy for a week or so, her insomnia continued on unabated. Even years after she procured new furnishings for her bedchambers, she never felt truly at ease sleeping in a bed. Which is why she kept a luxurious chaise lounge handy. Before Red came along and upended her life in the best way possible, she rarely ever slept upon the spacious bed she'd custom commissioned upon assuming the throne, preferring instead the relatively cramped confines of the lounger. There was only room for one upon the narrow but cushioned piece of furniture, which helped alleviate her anxieties at having the weight of another body nearby while she was most vulnerable. Normally whenever she enjoyed a tryst, she would simply force her lover out after she was finished with them, but on the rare occasion she let them remain in her chambers until the morn, she would abandon them in lieu of curling up on her lounger. She didn't want to risk dredging up sickening recollections she was desperately trying to keep buried.

Red changed all of that. With her relentless patience and devotion, she transformed their bed into a refuge, a sanctuary free of past torments that Regina could retreat to when feeling overwrought. There, securely wrapped in strong arms and her high-strung demeanor disarmed by an easy smile, consolation could be found whenever she was distraught and rejuvenating rest when she was so weary she could barely hold her head upright.

Red has always been hyper-aware of her state of mind. One of the many benefits of being a werewolf is possessing an innate, unique insight into human behavior. For instance, she can smell subtle changes in pheromones and detect the slightest irregularities in breathing or the most minute shift in the rate of a person's heartbeat that indicate the onset of rage or joy or arousal. Those supernatural senses make her the best bodyguard – and lover – Regina has ever known. At least a dozen times now Red has intervened to prevent violence that would have claimed multiple lives; five of those instances one of the lives might have been Regina's. It is equal measures comforting and unnerving that she no longer needs to utter a single syllable for Red to suss out her mood. And although that unnatural perceptiveness is occasionally irritating, mostly she is grateful that her capriciousness hasn't driven Red away.

The value of having someone who knows and understands her so intimately without being disgusted by the darkness festering in the depths of her soul is immeasurable. Rather than exploit the knowledge, Red wields her insight with all the skill of a surgeon and the tenderness of an angel. Whenever Regina is feeling unworthy, Red is there to offer earnest affirmation; when dispirited or depressed, Red pours out endless waves of affectionate encouragement; and when Regina gets so angry she can barely make sense of her own thoughts, Red's calm assurance never fails to eventually soothe the rampaging beast. The love of a simple peasant girl has elevated the marriage bed from something that once was a hideous dungeon into a beautiful sanctuary.

What Red has managed to do, and without really trying, is nothing short of miraculous. Having sanctified what was once desecrated and redeemed what was formerly condemned, she has transformed the defiled place into a haven of peace in the midst of the worst storms life can throw at them. Now that Regina has acclimated to this blessed refuge, she can not imagine inhabiting it alone. She needs Red's supernatural strength, feminine softness and familiar warmth next to her with a fervency that should be, and sometimes is, frightening.

Inhaling deeply to take in the sweet, earthy scent of her wife, Regina basks in her good fortune. It's on mornings like this that she opens herself up to the potential existence of deities. Her father is to this day a devout practitioner of the monotheistic religion of his country, but her mother had only believed in what the senses could interpret and the mind could comprehend. To Cora, magic was a natural element simpletons could not fathom and was therefore no proof of any higher order to the universe. By carrot and by stick, she drilled that skepticism into her daughter.

Regina did not think to question her mother's wisdom until she met Daniel and was introduced to the concept of love. How could anything so potent as to overwhelm the human heart and soul originate by natural means? The drive for procreation could explain physical attraction and the compulsion to provide stability for any offspring was surely responsible for emotional bonding. But when her lips touched his the first time, she knew the forces at work in her heart and soul were beyond what any textbook or learned scholar of a groundbreaking branch of science could rationally explain away as the mere product of brain chemistry. In that very instant she realized it was True Love and no one could have convinced her otherwise.

True Love is a power no ancient wizard or vaunted intellectual has ever been able to adequately explain. The origins of that mystical energy are as mysterious as those of magic itself. There is no other force known to man that can break any curse, instill a faith and hope that cannot be extinguished, and which can inextricably link two people via tethers time or distance can never sunder. So many have tried to study it, to bottle it, to break it down and scrutinize it's inner workings, only to fail miserably at every attempt. With the recent advent of telescopes by astronomers across the sea, the secrets of the cosmos are slowly but surely being unfolded. Medical advances have provided detailed schematics of the human body. Those in more advanced worlds, it is purported, are even beginning to understand the mechanics of the infinitesimally small substrate that exists beneath the surface of the material world limited human senses can perceive. And yet True Love remains stubbornly esoteric to science and incomprehensible to men.

In her youth, Daniel persuaded her this was proof that there is more to reality than what can be explained in a billion years of intensive study. Something greater, he had passionately argued, thrives beyond this plane, something that possesses consciousness, intelligence, and willpower to affect change wherever it sees fit. He called this entity – or entities – the gods according to the traditions of his ancestors. And while she was unwilling to project her own definitions upon this force, her doubts of its existence were daily fading into obscurity. One stolen kiss at a time, she was starting to believe in a higher power.

Daniel's death all but crushed that brief flicker of revelation. Her mother succeeded where the Pantheon failed in preventing Prometheus from instilling the secrets of the flame within her all-too-human heart. Perhaps that was a secondary motive for her mother's dreadful actions that fateful day in the family stables. Perhaps it was more than just Cora's lust for power and her scheme to gain it vicariously through her daughter that precipitated the cold blooded murder of the most gentle, loving person – aside from Red, of course – that Regina has ever met. She had made the critical mistake of questioning the worldview she had been painstakingly programmed to subscribe to, a worldview that had shaped her mother's every decision for longer than she had been alive, and that could not be permitted to continue for even a second. Whatever the impetus for the deed, it nearly ensured she would never again so blindly place her faith in intangible concepts that only fools followed.

Only she hadn't counted on a leggy brunette with a heart even bigger than her smile to revive those old questions. Meeting Red that day on the mountain pass was no coincidence. No certifiable evidence existed to verify that, but she is nonetheless convinced there were forces at play beyond the limited corporeal plane humanity inhabits – forces no mind, however brilliant, could begin to comprehend. Call it fate, destiny, or a god of some irrelevant designation, something inspired her to listen to her heart for once and pursue Red every bit as much as it guided Red to leave Snow's side and consequently save the life of an undeserving tyrant. It sure as hell wasn't any rational thinking on her part that propelled her feet down that narrow pass, risking her death for another glimpse of the creature who, through only a brief exchange, arrested the fullest extent of her interest. The internally memorialized evidence compiled over years that have since rolled by did nothing to alter that view. If anything, she is more convinced than ever that her mother was wrong. About everything.

Red is here with her because she is meant to be. While their love unquestionably involves an element of choice in that both of them could have walked away from the pull being exerted upon their hearts that day on the mountain, it was also predestined, written in the stars, spoken by the bones, and read in the tea leaves that they should meet and be given the opportunity to choose correctly. By whom or what the encounter was arranged is of no consequence in the grand scheme of things. All she cares about is the exceedingly precious gift so undeservedly bestowed upon her, a gift she has no intention of ever taking for granted. To do so, she is sure, would evoke a wrath she would have rightly earned.

Few ever experience such a love once in a lifetime, not to mention twice. And that the second is even greater than the first puts her in rarified air belonging to the grandest of legends and mythologies. If she squanders this heaven on earth that is Red's love, there will be no escaping the fiery judgment that will greet her in the afterlife. This degree of happiness is not meant for mortals, yet she is bathed in it each and every morning. Sometimes she is unable to breathe for how unspeakably grateful she is. Grace has, in the form of one slumbering angel, provided her deepest craving out of life, and there is no power in all of creation can take it away from her without a fight.

Overwhelmed by an onrush of adoration, she softly winds a fingertip down the muscled plane of a gently curved back. Her contentment intensifies into a silly smile when her touch produces a tiny whine of protest from Red, who then flips over to her other side. Now facing Regina, the junior Queen of Misthaven breathes a deep sigh. As she does, her nose scrunches up adorably and she snuggles her head deeper into the pillow. Long, dark lashes flutter briefly only to grow still once more.

Reaching out with as little movement as possible, Regina tenderly tucks a strand of silky brown hair behind Red's ear. "I love you," she whispers. "More than I you'll ever know. More than I can ever express in words. Every moment with you is blessing my heart can hardly contain. I wish an effective method existed to properly translate how much you mean to me so that I could tell you how I truly feel. I suppose I'll just have to take it on faith that you know, and hope the way you love me is evidence you understand because you feel the same way."

That Red cannot hear any of this does not matter when there is a burning need to say the words. Her love for this incredible woman is the one defining thing more pertinent to her being than her own selfish desires, and with the darkness of the night to shroud her, she feels a freedom to express herself that she wishes could extend in the light. Decorum and a need to appear indestructible in public prevent her from addressing Red the way she wishes she could. When unwelcome eyes are watching, it is often more than she can bear to be so close to her wife yet unable to touch her or hold her or simply say those three little words for no other reason than to receive one of those glorious smiles no one else can replicate. It is only here in the safety and seclusion of their bedroom that she can indulge her every affectionate whim, and she does so whenever the compulsion hits.

It hasn't always been that way. There was a time she valued her revenge more than love. She used to spend all of her time plotting to kill Snow White, the source of her every torment. It was Snow who caused Daniel's death, which in turn lead to her being married off to an elder king at the tender age of seventeen. It was Snow who spent her days yammering on about how glad she was her hero became her new mother while Regina gritted her teeth against the urge to scream. Each night, she chewed the inside of her lips until they bled to block out the anguish of being mounted by an old man she despised. Snow's betrayal had cost her everything, and after Leopold's death, her every waking moment was a lucid fantasy revolving around the day Snow would turn eighteen, after which the wretched brat would become fair game.

The day after the Princess's eighteenth birthday bash, not a single moment was wasted before setting in motion a plot she spent months contriving. Through a series of clever payoffs, she manufactured a paper trail that made it appear as if Snow was responsible for hiring out assassins to dispose of her stepmother. That was all the leverage required to banish the Princess from the kingdom and forever stake a claim to the throne. In remembrance of the sweet young girl she had once saved from a runaway horse, Snow was afforded three months to adapt to her new way of life before the proverbial hunting horns were sounded – and sound they did.

The hunt climaxed two years later on a cold, bitter day after the latest in an endless string of attempts at apprehending Snow was thwarted by the stunning werewolf who kept company with the fugitive princess. The rest, as they say, is history. A week later, Red showed up to dinner, and then again the next week, and the week after that. Pretty soon, Red was spending days at a time at the Dark Palace. Within six months, she was practically living there. Being that Snow had found her True Love and with the bounty on her head suspended, Red was no longer needed to protect her dearest friend on a daily basis. Regina was glad of it. Having come to prize her time with Red above all else, she loathed their partings whenever Red would venture back to Snow's side.

Three months later still, the inevitable happened when they fell into bed. It honestly astounded her that she lasted so long without claiming her criminally enticing prize when there were days it took all of her considerable willpower to resist temptation. The war to resist those annoyingly persistent urges to rip Red's clothes from her body and ravish her against the nearest solid surface was one she was unaccustomed to waging.

Upon becoming Queen, practicing patience in sexual matters was no longer required. If she saw someone she wanted who seemed equally interested, she merely had a trusted knight discreetly escort that individual up to her chambers. Once the door was shut, nature took it's course with no strings attached. This method of scratching a very pleasant biological itch was an ideal solution for a woman who believed herself to be cured of interest in romantic entanglements.

With Red, though, she found herself longing for companionship that extended beyond a torrid affair or quick tryst. Although her desire to know Red in a carnal sense was maddening at times, she was too afraid to take that step knowing it would irreparably alter their emerging dynamic. She worried that, as with Daniel, they would inevitably to be torn apart. In the process of time, she would drive Red away by simply virtue of attrition, meaning her selfish, cruel, vindictive nature would eventually erode Red's unwarranted affection into bitter loathing. Or worse, the unthinkable would happen to Red and it would be like losing Daniel all over again. She didn't think she could handle either scenario, so she tried her damnedest to maintain the status quo.

The great upheaval finally came one day in the early months of autumn. Regina can clearly remember dragging into her chambers, exhausted from a long day of court-related tedium. Upon arriving she'd found the door already open with Red waiting inside. Perched upon the seat below the bay window, she was completely engrossed in a thick tome containing an assortment of Eastern literature. She hadn't heard Regina approach, and as she read intently, so peaceful and still, it seemed as if she was posing for a portrait. The evening sunlight filtering into the room cast her in a faint orange glow as it played across her features and filtered through strands of rich brown hair left hanging down from a hastily applied leather tie. The sight was so breathtaking that Regina would eventually commission a likeness to be preserved by the royal artist that hung in her study to this day. Red had not enjoyed having to recreate and then maintain the position long enough that it could be translated to canvas for posterity.

Anyway, despite having adjusted to constant exposure to Red's beauty, Regina was nonetheless so awestruck that she gasped aloud, finally catching Red's attention. When Red lifted her nose out of her book, her entire countenance lit up at the sight of Regina standing in the doorway, as if she had become the sole source of her every joy. It was at that very moment acceptance of the hard truth arrived. Their current arrangement was no longer sufficient. They had waited long enough to consummate their undeniable feelings. That evening, they made love for the first time as the last rays of the sun set over the horizon, and they did not sleep until the moon had risen high in the night sky. That terrifying yet exhilarating step from a deep and meaningful friendship into sexual intimacy precipitated a fall from which she has yet to recover.

Never one to let the grass grow beneath her feet, she wasted no time thereafter claiming Red as her own. Privately she marked her new lover in ways that made Red blush for days while publicly declaring to the kingdom that Red now belonged to her and was therefore to be treated with the utmost respect properly due to the Queen's official companion. Not that it did any good insisting Red be shown respect when she was just as soon to be found roughhousing with the soldiers on their training days or milling among the peasants in the village below the Palace as to be about the castle carousing with nobles whilst adorned in the opulent and incredibly expensive dresses she was provided. The people adored Red unconditionally, accepted her as their own, and approached her without fear because they knew she was one of them. That she had risked her life on a daily basis to protect their not-so-secretly beloved Snow White only endeared her all the more to them.

In a turn of events that Regina hadn't predicted, Red became a bridge over the gaping chasm between the Crown and its subjects. As she would soon discover, Red's mere presence among them served as proof that their Queen was moving past her vendetta, that she was not just the maddened tyrant they had once rightly believed her to be.

This was proven one day when she ventured out of the castle in disguise.

 **_RQ_**

 _Arrayed in the rags of a peasant, much as she had posing as Wilma to gain insight into Snow White, Regina was a woman on a mission. Red's daily excursions to the village below the palace were no secret, nor were her motives, which were obvious to anyone with a brain. What she could not figure out was the reason behind her lover frequenting the village bakery in particular._

 _The subterfuge, she felt, was necessary due to what she thought was a justifiable suspicion. Red was spending so much time in the bakery of late that paranoia over potential betrayal was creeping in. That the baker and his wife had two highly attractive and eligible children did not help matters in the slightest. Their son was only two winters older than Red's twenty-two, was stout of build with sandy blonde hair and possessed a relentless kindness that no doubt made him a kindred spirit. The couple also had an overly friendly daughter Red's age with bouncing blonde curls and large almond-shaped blue eyes the exact shade of a summer sky. How could there not be an attraction to at least one of them?_

 _With that in mind, Regina glamored herself into peasants garb and slightly distorted her features to avoid detection. As when Rumple transformed her into Wilma, she proceeded to slip past her guards while they thought she was using the facilities. It wasn't much trouble traversing the palace, the courtyard, and the outer citadel without being detected. Servants often were invisible to those with the authority to detain them. So effective was her disguise that she made it to the bakery without attracting even a single second glance._

 _When she arrived, the baker's wife – a middle aged woman she could tell was once every bit as beautiful as her daughter – was standing out front speaking to a friend. Seeing an opportunity to glean some intelligence into the target family, she maneuvered around to the side of the building to eavesdrop._

" _Why do you let that...that gold digging strumpet hang around so much?" the friend asked, clearly referring to Red in a derisive tone that implied other less savory aspersions. The slight upon her lover, however inferred, had Regina gritting her teeth against an urge to anonymously out the woman as a dissident to the nearest guard._

" _If you'll recall, I'm not from around these parts," the baker's wife explained to her friend. "I knew Red's grandmother long before she was a twinkle in her mother's eye, but in the time she's been here, I've come to know her personally as well."_

 _Hearing that embarrassed Regina. She had jumped to unfounded conclusions when Red had just been seeking a connection with someone who was once close with her grandmother. Even so, she continued to listen, spellbound by the ensuing conversation._

" _That 'gold digging strumpet,'" the baker's wife continued, "is the sweetest thing I've ever met aside from my own babies. And that's sayin' somethin'."_

" _Makes you question what she's doin' with the Queen, don't it?" the friend then asked, contempt for Regina on open display with the familiar company. Regina had bristled silently but continued to hold her tongue in pursuit of her objective. "I wonder how she can stand to sleep next to a monster every night."_

" _It's because her heart is as tender as Princess Snow's," the baker's wife replied without hesitation. "That tells me all I need to know. If Red can love the Queen, then we've been wrong about her all along. Because I'll tell ya, she couldn't love someone who isn't worth lovin'. There is good in the Queen, we've just been too blind to see it."_

 _The words had shaken Regina down to her foundations, not only because it seemed her subjects were beginning to perceive her differently. It was jarring to hear someone other than Red so boldly declare that Red could not love her if she was not worth loving. Regina realized that day how much she'd started to change, that she was remarkably less austere of late, more patient in general and increasingly equitable in her judgments. Without the pursuit of Snow being her primary mission and with Red's unwavering love and support rounding some of her razor sharp edges, she'd begun to invest herself more in ensuring she had a healthy, functioning kingdom._

 _The exchange that followed only served as further confirmation._

" _But what about all the evil she did?" the friend had countered, verbalizing Regina's own negative inclination. She'd never really cared what the people thought of her, but at that moment she discovered that it mattered anyway. She had been a terrible ruler, had treated her subjects reprehensibly, without even realizing it, had become exactly what her mother wanted her to be. It was a wake up call, to say the least. "She slaughtered entire villages," the critical friend continued with a vehemence that bespoke personal investment, "and hunted the princess down like a dog for no good reason. How many people has she killed since she stole the crown from King Leopold? Dozens? Hundreds? More? She's called the Evil Queen for a reason, ya know."_

 _Pressing her back into the wall she was tucked against, Regina felt white hot shame creeping up on her, inflaming her cheeks and turning her stomach until she felt sick. It took all of her hard learned restraint not to bolt from the uncomfortable discussion, but she'd been glued to the spot, unable to move as her eyes and ears were finally being opened to the truth she'd so long repressed. Snow was not the criminal; she was. In her lust for revenge, her sanity had slipped away from her like sand from a sieve and she had abandoned what once was an ironclad conscience. Without those preventative factors, the darkness her mother instilled in her took over, influencing her every thought and deed as she committed one atrocity after another. Now that a modicum of sense was coming back to her, she was revolted._

 _Suddenly she'd wondered what the hell Red was doing with her. What had Red seen in her worth loving when she could see so little in herself? How, she wondered as tears pooled in her eyes, was she ever going to learn to live with what she'd done without being crushed by the enormous pressures of a guilt she was unprepared to deal with? At the time, it had seemed an insurmountable obstacle to reconcile herself to what she had become in the name of a vengeance Daniel would have abhorred._

" _No doubt the Queen was a wicked woman," the baker's wife then replied, and hearing it from so fair a woman's mouth was like a vicious slap to an already raw cheek. "But haven't you seen how different she is since Red came 'round? For a long time, I was ignorant of it, too, but then I tried a bit harder, if only for Red's sake, to see what made her love the woman. Know what I found?"_

" _What's that?"_

" _I saw someone who is capable and strong," the baker's wife then elaborated. "She's truly becoming a good ruler. Is she severe in judgment? Yes, but not how she used to be. Used to she'd have someone flogged for burning an apple pie, but not anymore. She's much more fair now, more willing to be persuaded for clemency. And she's always been shrewd with finances, but she's started giving back to the people that need it most._

" _Don't get me wrong, I hated the cruel, vindictive witch that stole the throne just as much as you did, but I think that woman is slowly disappearing. I don't even think that woman was really her. I have become convinced, like Red has told me so many times, that what we're seeing now is the real person that just got buried under huge mountains of hatred and anger, a person Red saw and loved before anyone else. We have a lot to thank that girl for...the kingdom has a lot to thank her for. So as far as I'm concerned, she has a place here any time she wishes, and that's that!"_

 **_RQ_**

Not needing to hear any more, Regina can remember rushing away far enough to magic herself into her chambers. Alone at last, she sequestered herself for the rest of that day to contemplate what she'd heard. It was late when Red got back, and by the time she had begun to process what she had learned and found to her amazement that she was not totally repulsed by it. The baker's wife had been right. Red was helping her to change organically. Without her hardly being aware, she was slowly rediscovering the idealistic young lady who once fell in love with a stable boy and without thought for her own safety rode to the rescue of a princess in distress.

In further analyzing the subtle transformation she was undergoing, she realized those words she'd spoken to Red on the mountain weren't empty platitudes meant to entice a gullible girl into tangled web. She really was tired of fighting for something that could never make her happy, and she was sick of being a prisoner of her mother's persistent, insidious influence.

Daddy had been right all along. So long as she continued to react the way her mother taught her to, she would never stop being that scared little girl who had trembled before her imperious and heartless mother, begging not to be punished for the slightest infraction. In a stark moment of clarity, she realized she didn't want to be a scared little girl anymore. Through every encouragement, every smile, every kiss, every touch, Red was reminding her of who she used to be: a young woman who refused to allow her totalitarian mother to dictate her life, whose heart was full of love, and whose convictions were set in stone. And though she could never fully reclaim her former innocence, she was actually learning to accept the person was becoming, someone who inhabited the gray area between the looming shadow of ever-encroaching darkness and the morning sun so full of promise.

What made reconciliation of this epiphany all the more palatable was that Red never asked her to change. Once, she even plainly declared that she had fallen in love with the Evil Queen with eyes wide open, then went on to reassure her that there were no expectations or strings attached to that affection. Regina was not expected to earn her love by being good. All she ever asked was that Regina be considerate of her feelings on certain subjects and to curb her violence whenever possible while in her company.

Admittedly, at first even that little request was difficult to abide by. She found it exceptionally difficult not to react according to her deeply ingrained programming. To stop and think about her actions and words before going off at the drop of a hat required a reservoir of self-control she hadn't tapped into for so long she was amazed anything remained of it at all. She had always been impulsive, but after Leopold was disposed of, she surrendered any and all restraint, self-imposed or otherwise, that might hold her back from taking whatever she wanted whenever she wanted it.

Nevertheless, she started to make a concerted effort to do better. And she succeeded to some degree. If not everyone was thrilled with her progress, so be it. Red is happy as a lark, and keeping her that way is Regina's primary concern.

"Hey," Red suddenly interrupts her thoughts. Her wife's voice is slurred as she regards her through bleary eyes. "What're you still doin' up? Need ta be sleepin', hon."

"No reason aside from just waking at random," Regina replies. "A lot on my mind, I suppose." She does not mention that it was Red's inability to stay still that initially roused her from a very pleasant slumber. It is nothing new for her to be awakened in the middle of the night by a stray poke from a sharp elbow or a glancing kick from a bare foot. Much like an excitable puppy, Red is in constant motion even when she sleeps, which Regina finds endearing. Mostly.

Red frowns sympathetically and reaches out to rub Regina's arm comfortingly. "'M sorry."

Regina leans in to give her wife a chaste kiss. "It's not your fault, my love," she then whispers against Red's lips. Drawing back slightly, she caresses a pale cheek. "Go back to sleep. You need your rest. We have a long day ahead of us."

Tomorrow is the appointed monthly date for petitions to be made in court. Usually the cases consist of those unable to be resolved locally due to conflicting or convoluted laws and instances where the parties involved successfully argued with the local magistrate for an appeal directly to the Queen. Very rarely do they have to make life and death judgments, and those they tackle together. Only with both of their consent can a death sentence be rendered, which has happened exactly two times in five years.

Their day is likely to be as boring as it is stressful, but that doesn't mean the decisions they make aren't important. Rest is vital for a clear mind. If only her brain got the message.

Red leans into the touch and then shifts her head to press a responding kiss to Regina's palm. "Only if you do, too."

"I can try but I make no promises of success," Regina concedes. She runs her fingers through the silky hair at Red's temple, tucking it behind her ear. "I'm afraid my mind is awhirl at the moment."

Red's brow furrows worriedly. "You're not stressin' 'bout what I mentioned earlier, are you?" The question is not without basis.

Earlier, Red had informed Regina that their handmaid Iris and her husband were trying to get pregnant. During the course of the short conversation that followed, Red not-so-subtly worked in a hint that she was interested in the idea of expanding their own family in the not too distant future. Despite having frequently thought about that very subject over the years, Regina was unprepared to entertain a discussion about the possibility of bringing a child into their lives. She is still raw from being strong-armed last week into putting a deadline on producing an heir.

The only positive out of being blindsided by the Council is that she's gained an important ally. Lord Maurice is the wealthiest man in the realm by far, and with his merchant days having afforded him connection all over the known world, his vast influence has all but invalidated the novelty of his title.

In the week since the stressful meeting, he has kept her apprised as agreed of the nobles acceptance of her terms. No one was pleased at yet another delay in her decision, but they have thus far all acquiesced, in large part because Lord Maurice convinced them it was in their best interest. Twice she has met privately with the physically imposing but otherwise gentle man, and each time he has reiterated his sympathy with her difficult circumstance. Whether or not his support is for Red's sake or hers is of no consequence when she has it. The lesson of gift horses and mouths is not lost on her.

That said, she remains reluctant to discuss the topic. To avoid getting into another argument with Red about over it, she changed the subject quickly. It did not escape her attention that the hasty deflection hurt the feelings of the most important person in her world. To Red's credit, she hid her reaction well, just not well enough. The pain in her eyes would not have been obvious to anyone else. But Regina was not anyone else. It was her job to read her wife's every mood, to be able to interpret her body language and know what every conceivable emotion looked like in her eyes. As she shifted the discussion to safer waters, the disappointment lacing through those green irises was unmistakable. That she felt like a callous bitch having put it there did not deter her from putting her own emotional fragility ahead of Red's. And that only made her feel worse.

They went to bed last night with a cloud of sadness over them that no amount of flowery language or affectionate petting could dispel. One night suffering Red bravely bearing her discouragement was bad enough. However much she would rather avoid this uncomfortable topic, she cannot allow this heaviness to continue.

Red's moods are infectious when they are in full bloom. Ruling has taught her to mask her emotions quite effectively, but when they are brimming to overflowing, they virtually inundate everyone around her. When she is happy, which thankfully is more often than not, everyone in her proximity is happy, too. In that way, the metaphor _her smile lights up a room_ is actually accurate.

Unfortunately that means the opposite is true as well. Regina has watched both happen in real time, but none were as frightening as an incident three years ago. They were scheduled to attend a party in Baron's mansion not far from the Palace that regrettably fell on the anniversary of Anita's death, only Regina didn't know that because Red hadn't mentioned anything about her mother's demise aside from generalities. Without the full picture, she hadn't been able to figure out why Red was so withdrawn during the carriage ride, and watched in muted horror as the death of all gaiety seemed to follow her morose wife around wherever she went. It was one of those rare occasions where nothing or no one, however interesting, could engage Red. She was totally disassociated and operating as if an emotionless automaton whose strings were being pulled only in the directions she did not want to go. Later on back home, she finally confessed the reason behind her strange behavior.

" _I just felt so empty_ ," she had said, hugging herself as if she was freezing and brittle and marred by a thousand spider-webbed cracks. " _Like a balloon that had all the air let out. Just elastic and useless. I'm sorry I ruined the party. I really tried to make it go away. It just wouldn't._ "

Regina kissed her pleas away and held her tight all night long so she wouldn't feel alone. But that valuable lesson was never forgotten. As startling as it was to rows of people simultaneously succumb to gloom prompted her to take extra notice of Red's emotiveness. They never again ventured out into public when she was feeling, as she had described it, empty like a deflated balloon.

There are few individuals she has ever met that are as strong as Red is. With all she's gone through, that that sort of thing doesn't happen continually is testament to her resilience. That said, being denied something she clearly and ardently desires over and over again is sure to eventually push her straight into the poisonous fingers of depression. The last thing they need is a castle full of weepy, dispirited, and demotivated servants.

Besides considerations of Red's state of mind, she also cannot abide allowing her wife to continue to fret over the misconception of having upset her. Not when the truth is she has been wrestling of late with a similar desire to be a mother. The only difference between them is that she is too cowardly to admit it. And for obvious reasons.

For one, she doesn't feel like she deserves to have that kind of pliable medium in her life. She is not so far removed from the Evil Queen that any sane individual would entrust her with a the welfare of an impressionable child. Even more so, she worries about repeating her mother's mistakes. She was not blessed with the best example of motherhood, and while Red's grandmother was a far cry from perfect, she at least loved Red and put Red first at the expense of her own ambitions. To the contrary, everything Cora ever did for her daughter was for her own benefit. To that end, she had groomed Regina to be a selfish and vindictive woman who is disturbingly likely to irreparably corrupt a child's innocence in the same way her mother had hers. The thought is as distasteful as it is terrifying that she might do to someone else what was done to her, thus keeping the cycle of abuse intact.

Frustrated with herself, she heaves a furtive sigh and determines to be honest for once. If not for her own sake then for Red's. "Perhaps I am a bit disconcerted about it," she admits, finding the words difficult to spit out. She feels better, though, once they are out in the open.

"Oh," Red responds, looking crushed, although she rallies quickly by putting on a false smile. "I totally understand. I love our life together, and I'm happy with the way things are. I just thought I'd see how you felt about adding to our family now that some time has passed. But since I know you don't want to, we can just move on. No harm, no foul, okay?" Though she tries to hide it, Regina can tell that Red is about to withdraw and feign going back to sleep so that she can let the tears fall silently without them being seen.

When she begins to shift away to face the wall, Regina stops her immediately with a firm hand on her hip, keeping her in place. "Sweetheart, I am not dismissing the idea outright," she explains, holding Red's eyes. "I just have concerns, mainly related to me and my capability to be a mother. I didn't have the best example, as you well know." And Red most certainly does know. Firsthand at that.

When Cora suddenly reappeared about eighteen months ago along with that backstabbing pirate, Captain Hook, she went about implementing a series of convoluted maneuvers to reintegrate herself in Regina's life. The last attempt involved removing Red from it, which she'd very nearly done by taking Red's heart and then using it to force Regina into compliance. With that much leverage at her disposal, Cora was able to rule the kingdom by undeclared proxy, thus granting Red an up close and personal glimpse into Regina's childhood hell. It was, perhaps, the second worst period of her life.

During that most trying time, she'd had to endure going through the motions of court, deferring every major decision to her mother who insisted on attending each session. Every meal was taken in tense silence, with only her mother's occasional questions and Regina's clipped answers to fill the coldness of the atmosphere. Eyes were on her everywhere she went. When her mother was not present to watch over her, Regina was accompanied by members of her personal guard whose hearts had also been collected by Cora to assure their loyalty.

The nights were the worst, as she'd had to suffer being separated from Red, who was kept confined to the tower of the citadel, for the first time in years. ' _It's for your own good,_ ' her mother had told her. Each night following Red's detainment, Cora made a show of visiting the tower after saying good night to her daughter. The unnecessary drama served as a pointed reminder that the slightest failure to be obedient would result in Red's defilement on any number of grotesque and unthinkable levels. Her mother was not above selling access to the most universally desired woman on the continent.

To prevent the worst atrocities imaginable being visited upon Red, Regina kept her rebellions minor. Sadly that did not stop her mother from doling out less perverse punishments upon the woman she saw as the primary factor behind Regina's _aberrant_ lifestyle. Had things gone on much longer, she was certain her mother's nightly visits would have inevitably included graphic descriptions of what activities with Red tonight's customer had purchased. The sole purpose of that most atrocious lesson would have been to enforce Cora's supreme dominance over every aspect of Regina's life, something she could not, would not, allow to happen. Not at Red's expense.

The charade went on for another whole month before she was able to surreptitiously locate her mother's well-hidden heart, which she then used to command the power-hungry witch to relinquish Red's heart. Once that was back in place, Regina ordered Cora to her knees. With the organ in hand whose absence had caused so much suffering throughout her childhood, she'd realized there was no other alternative than to permanently end her mother's machinations. Weeping openly while Red pleaded for her to reconsider, she said her final goodbyes and then crushed the heart to dust right in front of her mother's disbelieving face.

That excruciating tribulation for the most part cured Red of any remaining curiosity about Regina's childhood. The stripes she received at Cora's hand, both physically and magically, served as ample evidence of the horrors Regina was made to endure. Surely, then, she should understand why Regina feels reticent to bring a child into her life, why she feels as if she has been set up for failure. Deep down, she believes Red does understand, and is relieved to be proven correct when her wife's features soften with sympathy.

"I get why you feel that way," Red says sympathetically, "I really do. I just happen to think that your worries are misplaced."

Regina frowns. "I fail to see how. You met my mother."

"Yes, I did, and she was a nasty piece of work. But you are not her." Regina scoffs in objection. "You're not!" Red insists more forcefully. "Are you like her? Yes. But you're not _her_. That means you have a chance to learn from the mistakes she made with you so you don't repeat them. If the past seven years have taught me anything, it is that you have a good heart beating inside your chest." Regina scoffs a second time at that. "Don't be so dismissive," Red grouses, irritated now on her behalf. "I'm being serious! I think you've always wanted to be a good person, you just lost your way for a while."

"That's an incredibly generous description of events," Regina retorts. If only her enemies could see it that way, she'd have a lot easier go of diplomacy. In her experience, people simply cannot let go of the past...

"Maybe. But it's true." Green eyes swimming with unadulterated love, Red cradles Regina's chin between her thumb and forefinger, keeping their gazes locked. "I see your goodness every day in the way you love me unconditionally. I'm not without my faults, but you've never held them against me. I'm stubborn and reckless and sentimental and emotional, yet you've never asked me to change to suit your preferences. You accept me as I am, and I happen to think that is an indicator you will make a wonderful mother."

Regina nibbles at her lower lip, caught between implicit trust in Red and a woeful lack of it in herself. "I'm glad you think so," she says. "Unfortunately I do not share your unbridled optimism."

Unbidden memories of Snow invade her thoughts. How easy it had been for her to pretend to love her step-daughter like a good mother should! All the while she was consumed by a ravening hatred that made her crave giving the girl a second smile right in front of her bastard of a father. Funny how talk of having a child of her own illuminates how depraved she became where another was concerned. And while Snow certainly bore her fair share of responsibility in Daniel's demise, there was no arguing against her being a minor incapable of comprehending the ramifications of her betrayal.

Ultimately, Regina had chosen to unleash the fury of her devastation on the victim least capable of surviving it, which made her not only a coward but decidedly not the type of person to be responsible for a helpless infant wholly dependent upon her for vital nourishment. How many innocents had she slaughtered in her mad quest to kill Snow White? More than she can reliably account for. Would that effusion of blood stain her child by association? Worse still, how corrupted could that malleable life become were her degenerate nature take control again? In investing herself in extending her line, would she, like her mother before, only wind up raising another monster whose generationally-compounded malevolence surpassed that of it's predecessor? Would the kingdom come to rue the day the Evil Queen spawned a devil worse than her? She just couldn't imagine ever taking the chance of unleashing that much evil upon the unsuspecting world.

Instead of being swayed by her very rational concerns, Red just keeps holding her eyes, that remarkable faith shining all over her features. "In that case I'll just have to keep on reassuring you every single day you until you believe it yourself."

Regina, unsure of whether to kiss the woman for her dedication or shake some sense into her, heaves out a frustrated sigh. "You're not going to let go of this are you?"

"Not a chance." Red releases Regina's chin as she shuffles in close and presses their foreheads together. "I want us to have a baby together," she then says in a breathy whisper full of promise. "Many babies. A castle brimming with babies if I have my druthers."

Regina recoils away with a noise of disbelief, putting a hand's width of space between them. A castle _brimming_ with babies? Adopting an heir will not be so simple. No doubt the nobility will require any potential successor to be of at least minor pedigree, of which there are exceedingly few within the swelled ranks of the kingdom's orphanages. Finding a suitable child will be a delicate task that will entail a measure of luck if any success is to be had. If Red wants many children as she has so stated, biology will have to be involved. And how, exactly, does she expect that to work when there are obstacles, both obvious and secret, that would prevent her from fulfilling her end of the reproductive process?

"You can't be serious." Red says nothing but her eyes tell that tale that she'd spoken truly from the heart.

Regina grows more horrified by the second at the very prospect of enduring multiple pregnancies even though she knows very well it is impossible for her. Endless months of hormonal mood swings followed by hours of ripping pains as she passes an object the size of large vase through a hole tight enough to grip around a single finger. Frankly it sounds like torture, and one she cannot ask Red to endure in good conscience even if they possessed the means to make it possible in the first place. Which they most assuredly do not.

Seizing on the impracticality of conception under the circumstances, she adds, "Just how exactly do you propose to accomplish this miraculous feat? Last time I checked, we're missing an essential appendage required for conception."

Red nods, unperturbed by these irrefutable facts. "So? Like we discussed, we can adopt."

Regina concedes the point with a shrug of her shoulders. Insistent with confidence as Red is that adoption is a wholly acceptable choice, she cannot help but balk at her inability to provide so essential a service to her spouse.

Feeling insecure, she picks at the sheets between their bodies. "That is a viable option, of course. But I fear we will be fortunate to find one suitable child to adopt that the nobility would approve as legitimate successors. They will vastly prefer natural heirs. Which brings up the fact that you're young and fertile and I am neither. Don't you want to get pregnant, to grow large with a child that's been made out of love and bond with it before birthing it into the world?"

Just because she's not keen to go through such an awful ordeal doesn't mean Red feels the same. And judging by the wistful yet pained expression that overtakes that pretty face, Red does not share her reticence.

Red sighs, and the disappointment with which she speaks squeezes at Regina's heart. "You know I want that or else you wouldn't have brought it up. But tell me, who am I going to make a baby with out of love, huh? Because I have to tell you, you've ruined me for anyone else. It's just not possible for me to love anyone else other than you. So that's not gonna happen. And besides, there are so many kids out there of every age that need a home. Wouldn't it be incredible to give some of them a home that is full of love and support and encouragement? One where their parents are madly in love with each other, and have so much to give to a child who only wants to be loved. I don't need to give birth to be a mother, Regina, and neither do you, so don't let that be a hindrance to us having a family. And who gives a rat's ass about what the nobles think? This isn't their kingdom last I checked. They'll accept our kids or take a damn hike. I'll tell 'em myself if I have to."

Regina stares at her wife with a wonderment she ought to have run out of by now. But Red keeps finding ways of surprising her, of exceeding her expectations, and of showing her just how astonishingly vast her reserves of love are.

Tears of joy well up, and she reaches for her wife's hand to thread their fingers together. "You really mean that don't you?" she asks, tone matching her awe of the woman she neither deserves or appreciates nearly enough. "You would really be okay with adopting and never getting to have your own child or fulfill your somewhat illogical dream of singlehandedly repopulating the castle?"

Red gives her a longsuffering look as she thumbs away a tear that Regina hadn't noticed escape her lids. "Of course I would, you silly woman. You're the love of my life! I want a family with you, however we have to go about making that happen."

"Okay, then." Regina whispers the words so faintly that no one else could have heard them but her werewolf of a wife. Her reward is a smile so wide and bright and beautiful that it could never be adequately portrayed by even the most prodigiously talented artists of any realm.

Still smiling, Red's grip on Regina's hand tightens until it is a bit uncomfortable. Her excitement is unmistakable. "Yeah? You really, really want to?"

Regina nods, feeling her own excitement grow. "I really, really do."

"Oh, Regina! Oh! I didn't think you'd say yes, but I'm so happy you did, 'cause I've been talking to Matron Vilenda at the orphanage, and she was telling me about this one couple who waited for so long to adopt..."

Regina listens as Red goes on about the tragedy of a woman who lost her husband and her entire family only to then die in childbirth. Nodding sadly and smiling encouragingly where appropriate, she lets Red gush about the resoundingly successful adoption of the infant boy without a soul in the world left to claim him.

And when Red is finished, eyes alight and cheeks flushed with excitement, she swallows down her many, deeply rooted apprehensions and simply says, "Alright. You've convinced me. As soon as we are able, we'll pay a visit to Vilenda."

Red's exuberant shout of unadulterated joy fills the room and Regina's heart, too. When she finally makes it back to sleep half an hour later, she has a tiny but hopeful smile upon her face.


	5. An Intimate Interlude

**A/N:** Fair warning, here there be smut! This chapter is inconsequential to the plot, though, so it can be skipped if that's not your thing. **  
**

 **Standard Disclaimer** : These lovely characters ain't mine, I just play with them gently. Please don't sue me. The mistakes are mine, though.

* * *

 **Chapter 4** – An Intimate Interlude

The arrival of dawn ushers in a glorious morning. Overhead, the sky is a clear azure blanket dotted by wispy puffs of white that swirl, stretch, and swell into fluffy amorphous shapes. Rays of adolescent sunlight bathe the world in a gentle coat that makes every surface it touches shimmer a soft amber hue that is reminiscent of honey fresh from the comb. Through the flung open bay window, crisp and fresh air rolls through the chambers, underscored by the sweet coniferous note of the nearby forests. A merry chorus of birdsong trumpets from every corner of the citadel, ringing in a new day full of such promise that the atmosphere practically simmers with an undulating vivaciousness rapidly building toward a terrific crescendo.

To Regina, who has just risen from slumber, it feels as if the universe has given its stamp of approval upon the decision made the night before. Adoption. Becoming a mother. Although she is no less apprehensive about taking such a risky plunge into the terrifying unknown, Red is no less buoyant, and her pervasive excitement about their future is so infectious that it drowns out a majority of Regina's negativity. Of course, it also helps that the chances are looking good of fulfilling her end of the bargain Lord Maurice successfully negotiated on her behalf. If she and Red are seen speaking repeatedly with Vilenda over the next few weeks, the Council will have no further reason to doubt her resolve to solve the looming crisis of succession. Politically, things can then finally start returning to normal. For that reason alone there is cause for cautious optimism.

As per their ritual, Red rouses early and then wakes Regina soon thereafter for a brisk morning run prior to breakfast. Regina loiters in bed a few minutes to shake the hazy crust of sleep from her brain and eyes while Red answers nature's call.

"Up and at 'em sleepy head! We've got eight miles to cover and time's a-wastin'!" Red singsongs as she exits the bathroom, smiling for the whole world as if no evil has ever befallen her and she has never known the debilitating touch of sorrow. The woman's ability to greet each day as if it is a gift is as insufferable as it is enviable.

"'M'up. Stop yellin'," Regina mutters, furiously rubbing her eyes for the fifth time in as many minutes.

When Red chuckles at her post-sleep misery, she shoots her a withering glare, wishing for all she is worth in that moment that she had the power of Medusa to kill with her gaze. Turning Red into stone is not ideal, but if it meant she could get an extra hour or two of sleep…? Red just stands there, head cocked to the side as is her way, grinning so brightly that the gloomy clouds hanging over Regina's head have no choice but to flee. She sighs, shakes her head, and then surrenders to the inevitable.

"Fine. I'm moving, Miss Bossypants," she grouches, then slides out of bed. Red does not chide her for the reappropriation of the colorful epithet she often uses to refer to Regina, though she does arch a dark brow. Complaining under her breath, Regina ignores her too-chipper wife as she trudges into the bathroom to take care of her own morning business.

Once she's relieved herself and splashes some cold water on her face, she feels much better. The Regina that reemerges back into their chambers is much nicer to her spouse, even goes so far as to greet Red with a sweetly offered ' _good morning, darling_ ' emphasized by an even nicer kiss that Red eagerly returns. After they part, and then sneak in a few extra smooches and hugs for good measure, Red gestures to the bed where she has already laid out their clothes for the morning. As a team, they quickly tie back their hair, throw on the custom designed cotton shirts, form-fitting with long sleeves for the mildly chilly autumn air, atop similarly crafted ankle-length pants. Running sandals are then strapped to their feet before they head out into the corridor and meander their way up to the ramparts ringing the citadel. They chit-chat the entire walk through the Royal Wing, east towards the scullery, through the doorway halfway down that hall that leads to the northern wall and the winding staircase that eventually grants access to the ramparts.

At this hour, only a handful of guards are present upon the siege wall ringing the entirety of the citadel. Each of them is familiar with their Queens' daily routine and spare them greetings of respectful salutes and amiable smiles before returning to their duty patrolling the walls. After a brief series of warm-up stretches to prevent injury during their morning jaunt, Red issues no warning before taking off at a spirited pace, tossing a cheeky challenge back over her shoulder. ' _Betcha can't catch me slow poke!'_ Regina grins as she surges forward to catch up. Soon enough, they settle side-by-side into a steady churning rhythm, and the passing of seconds becomes marked by the pounding of their sandals against the implacable stone.

As always, the exertion helps Regina to soothe any clingy troubles from the night before. Sometimes running is the only way to purge any nagging demons remaining from being visited by yet another nightmare or to get her productive juices flowing after an annoying bout of insomnia even Red's normally effective assistance could not conquer. The exhilaration of pushing her body to the limit is also uniquely helpful to clear out the latent cobwebs of slumber from her mind, which is of particular importance today; she needs to be sharp at a tack for the upcoming session of court. It will do her no favors to dwell on how fit she is to become a parent when she has a more immediately pressing and demanding obligations to fulfill as Queen of a populous realm.

An hour later, both panting and drenched with sweat, Regina allows Red to drag her by the hand through the winding, sparsely populated corridors of the castle all the way back to their chambers. Inside, she then leads them straight into their bathroom where she releases Regina's hand to turn on the spigot of their newly installed shower, an invention fed by pipes pressurized by steam-powered pumps. For the sake of convenience should anything require repair, the copper supply pipes running down the wall from overhead are all exposed, though for appearance sake have been polished to a fine sheen and installed with a level of neatness and artistry that passed her demanding standards. A floor drain which carries the waste water away is sealed into the tile floor by grout tough enough to withstand water erosion, and it dumps directly into the convoluted system of large diameter cast iron pipes held together by lead-packed joints, the near three hundred foot long trunk of which terminates deep within the bowels of the castle. The tile decorating the shower itself matches the rest of the bathroom, black with silver accents, though a number of strategically selected tiles upon the three walls comprising the stall are adorned in the center with the coat of arms Regina and Red adopted for their new family line: a stylized crescent moon hanging over a sprawling apple tree. The final feature is a wall of tall, half-inch thick glass which segregates the stall from the rest of the bathroom, which is by some trick of chemistry lightly frosted so as to provide occupants much needed privacy seeing as servants can be flitting to and fro at any given time.

The shower system, unique upon the continent as far as Regina is aware, was designed by none other than Victor Frankenstein – who cunningly modified a similar scheme from his world to utilize materials available in his new one – along with Lord Maurice, who it turns out is not only the second most wealthy individual in the realm but a self-educated engineer whose proficiency and ingenuity are, according to Victor anyway, second to none. The Royal Quarters were the first wing of the castle to be fitted with this amazing and wonderful conglomeration, though plans are currently in the works to expand access to the entirety of the castle. In anticipation of this project, Regina has already rewarded the two architects of the system for their industriousness with a sizable contract that will make Victor a wealthy man and Lord Maurice even more so. Once the audacious undertaking is completed in the nebulous near future, she has every intention in backing what will undoubtedly be a lucrative enterprise to offer installation of the system to the rest of those in Misthaven with the means to afford such a luxury. Although purchasing hers put a sizable dent in her purse even with a queenly discount, it was so worth it. The convenience of showering versus bathing when time is of the essence is beyond quantification.

Once the taps are adjusted for the correct heat – an important fringe benefit of the steam-powered pumps is the ready availability of piping hot water – Red unceremoniously divests herself of all clothing and then _oh-so-generously_ volunteers to aid Regina in doing the same. Now nude and evidently frisky, she tosses a saucy wink back over her shoulder as she climbs into the relatively spacious stall, having just helped herself to a handful of Regina's rump before giving it a firm squeeze followed by a vicious swat that leaves behind a mean hand-shaped splotch. As payback, Regina rushes in after Red, throws the opaque glass barrier closed as she enters the stall, grabs Red by the hips and pushes her face first against the wall opposite the faucet. Pinned between the unforgiving wall and Regina's unyielding frame, Red gasps, eyes fluttering shut, head turned to the side so that her cheek is resting upon the damp tile.

Torrid rain streams from the large conical head sitting atop a tall standpipe, dozens of tiny holes in the polished brass lending extra _oomph_ to the thin jets of water being forced through them with enough pressure to pleasantly sting Regina's flesh. The torrent relentlessly batters her back and shoulders, splashes over onto Red, depositing an unending flow of rivulets that meander down the pale valley of Red's arched spine.

"Such a troublemaker," Regina says, molding herself to Red's back, lips moving deliberately against the shell of her ear. Breasts mashed against Red's lower shoulder, she wraps an arm low around Red's side, hand splayed dangerously southward over a toned belly that is far more fun to touch than it is to look at – which is plenty of fun, indeed. With her free hand, she flips her long hair, now soaking wet, free of the knot holding it back and then does the same for Red.

"I swear, you do so love to live on edge. You're a bold little tart, aren't you?" she then asks, sweeping Red's sopping tresses over her shoulder.

Bottom lip tucked between her teeth, Red nods, responding with a half-hum of agreement and a half-moan of approval. She cries out when Regina moves the hand that was in her hair around her other side, snatches a pert breast, kneads it a bit and then pinches at an erect nipple.

"I see you still haven't learned to not start shit with me if you're not serious about finishing," Regina says, voice low and rumbling just how Red likes it when they are engaging in amorous play. "Guess I'll have to teach you another lesson. You'd like that, wouldn't you, you insatiable tease?" Red doesn't answer, just moans, her hips starting to grind back into Regina's pelvis. That is an unsatisfactory response when they are pressed for time and Red knew _exactly_ what she was doing with that provocative ass slap. Adopting her most imperious tone, Regina squeezes Red's breast more harshly than before, "Answer me. With intelligible words. Tell me whether or not you wish for me to punish you for your unwarranted display of impertinence."

"Please, please," Red gasps, then cries out again when Regina returns the favor with a hard slap to her rear that is even more forceful than the one that started this impromptu tryst. " _Gah!_ Yes…m-more. Punish me. Please!"

"Not good enough," Regina says, bucking back defiantly against Red's gyrating rear as she vigorously massages the modest breast straining against her hand. "I need details. Tell me how much. How much do you want it? Are you desperate for it? Willing to beg for it? To humiliate yourself for it?"

"Yes...oh, _gods_ , yes!" Red cries, eyes open now, pupils so dilated there is more black than green. "I need it so bad. S-so bad I can't think straight. And I'll do anything for it. Anything you want! I'll beg and plead on my hands and knees if you want, just...please, hurt me."

"With pleasure," Regina smiles, a dark, joyous arousal arcing through her.

When she discovered Red liked to mix some controlled violence into their intimate encounters, she was hardly able to believe her luck. Until Red, she did not feel safe enough to fully unleash the desire to control and possess the object of her lust, nor had she ever found a partner who relished sexual roughhousing to the degree Red does. The inevitable result of such an indulgence would have been either a corpse to clean up in order to protect her reputation or a body whose pleasures she would never again enjoy because while her victim would be too scared of her to blab about what she liked to do _and_ have done to her but would also be far too traumatized to repeat the experience. With Red, she had none of those worries because she was not the one to initiate their memorable descent down the rabbit hole of what most in polite society would perceive as unforgivable sexual deviance. Not only is Red tough enough to take whatever Regina can dish out, she is equally eager to give every bit as good as she gets.

' _It's the wolf,'_ Red told Regina after their first time experimenting left Regina's lip bloody, the entire length of Red's back welted with angry nail shape scratches, and both of them sporting a myriad of bruises and tooth indentations in intimate areas they treasured for days afterward. ' _She can smell your power, your pure alpha energy, and it gets her so excited and aggressive she surfaces even when there isn't a full moon. Nobody else ever made her do that – come out like this, I mean, like she's as crazy for you as I am. I guess she's finally found a mate who can handle her appetites. And so have I._ '

' _Well, I'll be happy to oblige those appetites any time you're in the mood, my dear,_ ' Regina had replied, and has since proved her willingness to do so on any number of occasions through the years. Such as this morning, when she accommodates Red with a blistering open-handed swat to the exact same spot she struck moments ago. She follows it up with another. Then another. Then another. And then thrice more in rapid succession for good measure. Each time her hand cracks down, the satisfying _thwack_ of lovely pristine flesh being abused chimes enticingly in her ears and Red whimpers, gasps, or groans, her thighs clenching together as her entire body shivers with pleasure and uncontrollable eagerness over the prospect of what else is to come. A veteran at reading her wife's body language, there is no misinterpreting that it will not take very long to push Red to the edge and then send her toppling headlong over it. Regina salivates over the prospect.

Seizing the moment, she snatches a handful of wet hair, looping it around her hand a couple times as if it were a set of reins by which to steer a prized filly. Red whimpers in anticipation, knowing the action is a foreplay to unbearable ecstasy.

"How do you want to be fucked?" Regina asks, soothing the wet, angry skin beneath her hand with appropriately gentle circles. She doesn't always give Red a choice when they engage in this sort of behavior, but this morning she's feeling uncommonly benevolent.

A shudder passes through Red at the coarse question. "Just like this. From behind. With the...thingy..."

 _Ah, the thingy._ Regina smirks, wondering Red will ever be able to wrap her bashful lips around the proper designation for their favorite toy outside the reality-shattering throes of passion.

The 'thingy' was a rather inappropriate wedding gift Regina received to augment their wedding night – or a very appropriate one considering it was from Maleficent. It is similar to the one that naughty dragon had personally, and thoroughly, introduced a disgustingly naive Regina to many years ago. Essentially it is a soft, pliable leather dildo set into a custom made strap harness, designed alike for the unadulterated gratification of lesbians and heterosexual men who also enjoy penetration. Apparently Stefan is such a man if Mal is to be believed, not that Regina has any intention of inquiring into the minutiae of the foreign king's private proclivities. It is no business of hers what any couple gets up to behind closed doors so long as it is consensual, nor is it of any concern what others think about what she does within the sanctum of her own bedroom. That said, she is as unashamed of her progressive, liberated sexuality as she is of the devices utilized – by her own hand or Red's – to facilitate entertaining it. If the whole world were to discover what she was about to do to her wife, she would not be deterred.

Of course, the same cannot be said for Red, who blushes scarlet at the slightest mention of sex while in the presence of company, familiar or otherwise. At first, that public innocence was perplexing when in private and made to feel comfortable Red is the most viscerally sexual being Regina has ever been fortunate enough to have relations with. Not even Mal at the height of her form and attractiveness can compete with Red's effortless, raw, overpowering sex appeal; and not even at the peak of her reproductive cycle could Mal keep up with Red's seemingly endless stores of energy on an ordinary day. With Mal at her most rambunctious, they were usually both done for within two or three orgasms a piece. Not Red, though. Once the arousal switch gets flicked on in Red, she becomes someone else altogether – a boisterous, dynamic, impulsive, and audacious woman who oozes a sensuality so thick it is tangible and so delicious it makes Regina's mouth water like a ravenous woman set before a bountiful feast of the finest delicacies. Honestly it's like whatever obstructs the wolf from gaining access to Red's conscious mind is ripped away when the shift occurs so that the two disparate personalities are allowed to coagulate. The new amalgamated version that emerges is the perfect sexual partner for Regina: a tender, thoughtful, knowledgeable, immensely talented lover with a filthy mind, a filthier mouth, and ridiculously flexible limbs, who would seldom be ready to call it quits before Regina reaches the extreme limit of her ability to endure any more pleasure lest her higher brain functions are put in danger of permanent disability.

But no one can know any of that, because if she told a single soul, Red would withhold sex for far longer than Regina is willing to be deprived. _Pathetic, maybe, but I'm content to be pathetic if it means I have Red at my beck and call_. Which she does for the most part, as it seems Red's libido is auspiciously and inextricably entwined with Regina's. So she lets her wife keep her dirty little secret. And besides, there is an extra thrill knowing she gets to see a side of Red no one ever has, or will if she has any say in the matter.

Shifting back a pace, Regina snaps her fingers, magically donning the harness fitted with the appendage specifically chosen for Red after some very careful and mostly enjoyable trial and error. With another snap of her fingers, the material of the long, moderately girthy, proudly erect appendage is transformed into a substance closely resembling flesh with all associated rigid elasticity and throbbing warmth. A neat trick she also learned from Maleficent to enhance the pleasure given by the toy.

Heart racing in her chest, as wet on the inside as she is on the outside, Regina steps back up and aligns her hips with Red's. "Any other requests?" she asks, rubbing the head up and down Red's glistening entrance to gather up lubrication for the dildo. The sight of Red's swollen nether lips, so pretty and inviting, is overwhelming to the point she can hardly contain the urge to surge forward just to hear that irresistible mewl that invariably follows penetration.

" _Mmmmmm_ , yes," Red hisses the final consonant when Regina grazes her clit. "Don't hold back. Make me scream."

Regina grins devilishly, all teeth and power and domination. "Your wish is my command." And then she pushes forward, burying herself in her personal paradise one slow, torturous inch at a time. Her head dips back in wanton joy upon hearing Red emit a keening mewl, which begins as she pushes past a threshold that offers little resistance because Red is absolutely drenched and does not remit until she is buried up to the hilt.

"How's that feel?" she asks once fully sheathed, the hand still tangled in Red's saturated hair reflexively tightening.

"Good. So, so good," Red pants, pushing back against Regina's steadily applied pressure and the occasional roll of her hips.

Regina grunts her approval. _Time to maintain my stellar studly reputation._ In preparation, she braces herself by grasping Red's shoulder with her free hand.

"Ready?"

No reply is given by Red save a shuddered whine. While they are both accustomed to rough handling, they are always mindful of the other's safety. Verbal responses are required before tethers binding their more insensitive sides are turned loose. To that end, Regina pulls Red's upper torso back toward her with the hair bunched in her hand until Red's back is arched further than she would be comfortable with were her wife not a supernatural creature of ancient primordial magicks whose bones, muscles, and joints can bear abuse far beyond the capacity of the most hardy human being. Red alleviates the strain by wedging herself into position with her arms, extending them out so she can place her palms on the tile wall. Even so, Regina might worry this extreme angle will hurt Red if she was not confident from experience that it will only intensify her wife's pleasure once she starts moving in earnest. It always does...

"I said," she says, volume rising with each syllable as she punctuates the words with tiny thrusts that only frustrate Red, "are you ready...to be...fucked?"

A rumble starts low in Red's belly rises up through her torso, into her chest, up the tense column of her throat. "Yes!" she growls, trying to nod but unable to due to Regina's iron grip on her hair. "Fuck me. Fuck me right now! I'm ready. I'm so fucking rea – _hnnnnnng_!"

Not one needing to be told twice, Regina pulls all the way out, stalls with the tip of the appendage encircled by Red's picturesquely distended lips, then crashes back home with the full force of a grunted effort. Red's subsequent groan is not even spilling out before Regina repeats the process, then again, then again, then again each time picking up the pace until she is hammering away as frantically as she is able without losing control of her limbs to the slick tile beneath her feet. The noises Red makes as she is taken over and over are nothing short of undiluted, addictive, unapologetically erotic sin. Getting into the rhythm now, Regina yanks Red the rest of the way back by her hair until she can bury her nose in it, smell the salty sweat through the cascading water, can see Red's eyes slip closed and her jaw hanging slack around a perpetual moan intermittently interrupted by hoarse expletives.

After a good while rutting away like this, she pulls back enough to glance down and takes a while to observe the hypnotic motion of their bodies crashing together. The rippling of Red's shapely flank with each impact, the predictable disappearance of the dildo as it slips inside a core so flush with arousal it leaks out and drips from the toy every time it reappears, the sweet yet tangy smell of their combined excitement swirling amidst the water vapor, is all so mesmerizing and intoxicating that she can hardly tear her eyes away. So enthralled is Regina that she is only vaguely aware that she is panting for breath as if having run ten miles without a moment of reprieve and that the muscles in her legs and back are burning as she relentlessly pounds into Red with all the crazed fury of a woman unhinged from the restrictions so cruelly imposed by entropic nature upon her frail, limited mortal body.

And then she glimpses one of Red's hands slide down the moisture slick wall, only to slip off and immediately snake between her long legs. The muscles in Red's forearm start to twitch frenetically and within a heartbeat her eyelids crinkle from the extra force being exerted upon them.

"Oh, fuck!"

That cry of infinitely concentrated bliss is Regina's cue to initiate the final phase of this unexpectedly welcome rendezvous.

All the while without ceasing her merciless attack on Red's delightfully tight cunt, she slides the hand clinging to Red's shoulder along the collar, past the junction of her neck, up onto the column of her throat, which is corded and veined under the strain of their immensely gratifying activity. Mindful not to hurt Red, she wraps her hand around the front of a pale throat, closes her fingers around it and begins to squeeze. In response, Red's eyes shoot open, irises nearly invisible within dual wells of liquid black lust, and she locks gazes with Regina, pleading wordlessly for _more, harder, faster, tighter._ Regina is all too happy to oblige. Adjusting the hand fisting Red's hair all the way up to her scalp, Regina complies with a gusto that would petrify most sane individuals. She ups her pace another level and squeezes Red's throat until her entire face is glowing a lush crimson and her eyes are bulging with a pain so intense and rapturous and beautiful that Regina feels her walls involuntarily clench then start to flutter erratically – a mini-orgasm that is not uncommon when she is using the harness.

" _Holy shit_!" Regina gasps, shuddering, her thrusts temporarily derailing off tempo as she recovers from the shock of cumming without having been touched even once.

But recover she does, just in time to watch Red's eyes glaze over, her brain entering that state of euphoric overload where its primary function is reoriented to processing the stimuli originating from the erogenous zones. A bead of drool creeps down Red's chin in confirmation of that assessment, and Regina follows its path as it drips onto her heaving chest, then rolls lazily over a pebbled pink nipple straining at the humid air. And then Red begins to babble incoherently as if the language circuits in her brain have been disrupted. It's a phenomenon that took some getting used to. The first time it happened Regina abruptly stopped moving, legitimately terrified she'd given Red a stroke. When the wave passed and Red regained lucidity, Regina actually dissolved into a fit of horrified tears. Now, though, having witnessed it more times than she can recall, she recognizes it for what it is: the prelude to a gushing orgasm that will wind up with Red in a boneless heap on the shower floor if Regina is not prepared to hold her weight.

Readying herself for the burden she will be soon required to bear, she increases the pace of her thrusting to the bleeding edge of her capability so that what was once steady slapping of flesh is now a cacophonous percussion more pleasing to her ears than the strings of a stirring melodic concerto. She then releases Red's hair to wind that arm around her shoulders, and with Red thus confidently secured, she further tightens the grip on her throat to where Red's breathing becomes a struggled wheeze. It's as far Regina will allow herself to go despite Red's insistence she can take her airway being totally arrested while also under the strain of sex for at least two and a half minutes before losing consciousness.

At the edges of her own endurance, Regina grunts and growls as she smashes ever harder into Red's increasingly inflamed but ever receptive womanhood. Her vision blurs from over-exertion. Sweat pours from her forehead as if to rival the impressive output of the shower spigot. Every muscle in her body is on fire, but the best form of flame, a purifying inferno that reduces her world down to what is most vital in that moment – serving up an insurmountable deluge of pleasure to the woman who gives her life meaning. Her focus narrows to Red, watching her face intently so that she can alter the angle of assault ever-so-slightly until hitting exactly the right spot. When she finds it, Red's facial muscles slacken, her eyes roll up into her skull, and her mouth contorts around a silent scream. Regina feels Red's walls tremor through the artificial shaft and relishes the sensation as she continues to diligently work Red through on into proper completion. It doesn't take long, perhaps half a dozen thrusts, before Red stiffens from head to toe as if an invisible string linked to her muscles has been snapped taut with a violence that would have sent Regina reeling if not for her having prepared for such an event. In the same instant Red clamps around the dildo with enough power to have broken it if were attached to a flesh and blood man, a flood of liquid spurts out around it that soaks Regina's legs, and then Red's walls are clenching with such strength and ferocity that the appendage – now resting so tantalizingly close to Regina's clit – vibrates quickly and forcefully enough to transfer downward into the super-sensitive bundle of nerves aching for attention because of how painfully aroused she is. Still thrusting with manic fervor, in a matter of seconds, Regina's vision whitens and an electric fire springs to life within her loins. Control snapping like the branch of a tree severed by a catastrophic vortex, she shouts a strangled cry of half-deranged ecstasy to the invisible heavens that occupy the stars hidden from view by tile, plaster, and stone.

How long they stay locked that way, caught up in the spasms of an indescribable euphoria, she cannot say. They have both ascended to the planes of another world, that erotic Elysium where time loses all meaning, pain and pleasure are one and all, and nothing else exists aside from their joined bodies and united communion with the gods of pure sexual, emotional, and spiritual fulfillment.

When Regina does finally recover her senses some indeterminate time later, she is surprised to find Red is no longer facing away, held tight to her front. Instead her still-trembling wife is nestled in her arms, face tucked into the crease of her neck, holding her up instead of the other way around.

"So, that was a lot of fun. Let's do it again some time," Red says after a while, and Regina can feel the playful smile against her flushed skin.

She cannot help herself. She laughs.


	6. A Chilling Report

**A/N:** After the previous steamy chapter, the narrative will now officially pick up steam. I might update again tomorrow. We'll see. **  
**

 **Standard Disclaimer** : These lovely characters ain't mine, I just play with them gently. Please don't sue me. The mistakes are mine, though.

* * *

 **Chapter 5** – A Chilling Report

After actually cleaning up in the shower like they were supposed to instead of carousing like newlyweds, Regina and Red prepare for the rest of their day. Since they are already late to court, Regina throws on a black satin slip then meanders over to one of her three wardrobes. She takes her time perusing her vast collection of dresses, deliberately fingering the fabric of each exquisite item until she comes across the one that catches her appraising eye. Pulling it out reverently, she studies it for a moment before gliding over barefoot to the body length mirror to admire it against her figure.

Sporting a collar adorned with long, inky raven feathers, the long-sleeved black and maroon garment with enormous frilly lace cuffs dotted with diamonds, some large enough to be set in a crown and some small enough to be fit for earrings. Silver and gold filigree piping accents the plunging jewel neckline, innumerable diamonds of various sizes attached all along the ornately shapes of the ornamentation which actually stretches past the end of the bodice. The skirts are accented a wide, flaring strip of ruffled raven feathers all the way down to the hem. It's an ostentatious number to be sure, but one of Regina's favorites.

"I love that dress. It's the one you wore the night you proposed," Red says, eyeing said garment – and Regina – wistfully from her perch on the corner of their bed.

Covered only by her thinner, less modest crimson slip, Red drapes a shapely leg over her knee and leans her weight on one arm, causing the hem to ride up high enough to reveal a hint of her underwear. Regina swears under her breath, fingers itching to delve underneath the fabric and dip into the fertile field so tragically concealed by silk and lace. The woman really is a shameless tease who enjoys taking advantage of the effect her womanly wiles produce in Regina. Thankfully the movement is clearly innocuous, as Red's expression betrays her submersion within the effervescent haze of a memory that is forever etched in both of their minds.

"You had your hair up in this high windswept bun and were wearing these tear-drop shaped earrings with onyx settings," Red goes on, her voice light and breezy, full of the wonderful magic of that most special night that comes to life with every passing word and second. "There was a bejeweled talon ring on your left index finger. And I'd never seen such a fancy necklace like the one that goes with that dress, either. The way it dipped into your cleavage..." she trails off, blushing alluringly, "Wow. To say I was awestruck doesn't begin to cover it, especially not when you were looking at me like I was your whole world, like you loved me beyond your own ability to comprehend it. I'd never felt so loved, so appreciated and cherished and desired. I was ready to fight the world for you before, but that night I realized I was ready to die for you."

Regina has heard all of this before, of course, though it never hurts to hear it again. It's nice to be reminded from time to time that the gamble she took that night has paid off in such spectacular fashion.

Having decided she would endure no more calls for her to abandon Red in favor of a suitable husband to further the kingdom's interest, the only natural course of action remaining was for her to elevate Red from the Queen's consort to her co-ruler. It was a risky move that flew in the face of powerful people who already did not particularly care for her, many of whom would be all too happy to see her dethroned or dead. deeply unpopular amongst the nobles, it accomplished Regina's ends just fine. Not only did all calls for her to but she got to make an honest woman out of the love of her life.

Knowing the night she proposed was to be momentous for them both, Regina pulled out all the stops. She spared no expense in arranging the exotic ingredients for their dinner to be imported from Chansiréne, a coastal town many leagues to the south. The seafood dish features something the local inhabitants of that realm refer to as _lobster mornay_ under a bed of rice baked in a mix of onion soup and consommé, preceded by mussel and saffron soup, and is capped off by a rich chocolate mousse topped with sugary whipped cream. The meal became Red's favorite the first time she sampled it at a gala they were invited to while visiting Prince Eric and Princess Ariel shortly after the birth of their daughter Melody. With Red, Regina quickly discovered the old saying that the way to a man's heart is through his stomach is also only applicable women, especially when they are werewolves that require twice the caloric intake of a normal human female – and even more during Wolf's Time.

The royal dining hall was cleared out of all décor for the occasion save for the banner boasting the old family crest, the rearing stallion and dashing cavalier. The grand table large enough to host a party of fifty was disassembled and moved so a smaller, more intimate one could be brought in that seated only two. A lush red orchid was procured to decorate the table, again Red's favorite, and the best china and silverware in the castle was brought out. With much room to spare due to the lack of the grand table, a bevy of musicians were hired to keep up a constant stream of romantic music, all the most accomplished upon their instrument, featuring two violinists, a cellist, a flutist, and a guitarist from the realm of Xavier from whence Regina hailed. A recently developed instrument was debuted in the castle that night as well, the piano, a gorgeous piece of craftsmanship invented some years before in Drakkenhall – King Stefan's realm – and which only just caught on in Misthaven. New candelabras were ordered for the occasion with wolf's head cups, howling maws fashioned to hold the lavender scented candles Red prefers, and she had red orchid petals strewn about the floor as if the litter of their cozy stone forest with no trees and a canopy of thick cedar braces and rosewood paneling.

Regina can remember the moment Red walked in, arrayed in the dress Regina had requested her to wear that she instructed her personal designer to make just for that night. It was a slightly more sleek dress than Regina's, also brocade dyed, though instead of maroon accents upon a black background the colors were reversed and the designs deliberately depicting the branches of an apple tree whose fruit was shaped as a crescent moon. It had a unique neckline sewn to also resemble a crescent moon, though it was lacked the gaudy ornamentation as Red prefers simpler garments. All of her jewelry, the wolfshead necklace with burning red eyes and moon-shaped earrings, were gold and set with ruby gemstones, as Red cannot abide silver touching her skin due to her genetic condition. Meanwhile her hair was left down, curls tumbling over her shoulder and splaying down her back all the way to the small, a golden floral headband wound into the thick strands at her crown. Taken as a whole, she was a vision from the otherworld, an ethereal being wrapped in flesh whose skin was flush with joy and whose eyes danced with unfathomable devotion. Regina has only ever seen a more beautiful sight once, on their wedding day, when Red walked down the aisle in her wedding gown clinging to her grandmother's arm.

"You know I feel the same, darling," Regina says, reaching back for Red's hand, needing to feel their skin touch with undeniable fervency. When they join together, Red having slid off the bed, she tugs her wife over to the mirror. "For whatever reason I'm feeling nostalgic right now, not that it's a bad thing. That was a night I'll never forget."

Red bumps her hip, smiling at her. "Me either. I know why you're all sentimental right, though." When Regina arches a brow, Red's smile spreads into a cheeky grin. "It's 'cause of what happened in the shower a few minutes ago." Regina's amused scoff only makes Red chuckle and bump their hips together again. "C'mon. Admit it. I'm just that good."

A blush colors Regina's cheek, though she plays it off with her typical bluster. "Ha! And who was it that did all the work? I seem to recall it wasn't you..."

"Oh, yeah?" Red interrupts, her own cheeks glowing, " _I_ seem to recall not even needing to touch you to make you cum. So tell me, who's the one with magic, huh? Bet that's a trick not even that old devil who taught you couldn't figure out."

A full body wince corkscrews through Regina at the mention of her old mentor. "Forgetting any thought of associating... _him_...with what we just did," she says, "I must grant that you have a unique ability to make me see stars that is quite magical indeed. It's why I keep you around, my love."

"Aww, and here I thought it was my rustic charm and pretty face that kept you coming back for more." Red bats her eyes prettily for effect. It works, which isn't all that shocking. Regina is long used to Red getting what she wants with a sly ability manipulate she would never have guessed the outwardly common woman to possess. She has paid dearly for that underestimation over the years. The only silver lining is that it is mostly to her benefit. Red hardly ever asks for anything that is purely selfish.

"Well, those admirable virtues certainly don't hurt your undeniable appeal." Regina adds a lighthearted wink at the end that tickles Red, who giggles in that genuine, cutesy way of hers that is endearing, unlike most other noble ladies who put on airs of a perpetual debutante incapable of achieving emotional or intellectual maturity. "That said," she adds, "best not brandish that charm too much lest we be even later for court than we already are."

The conversational redirect, although abruptly interrupting their enjoyable interplay, was a necessary step to get them back on track for the rest of the day. Sometimes in the heady aftermath of their lovemaking, Red is easily distracted and a chore to keep focused, which means Regina has to do some subtle steering. Such as now, when she would much prefer to loiter in their bedchambers and reminisce about the night she proposed and perhaps have a repeat of their positively volcanic tryst in the shower. _Ah, the oft maddening frustrations of being a ruler…_

"I'll try to keep it to a minimum then," Red says, amiably accepting the shift in direction. "Any suggestions for me? Or should I just pick out whatever I'm in the mood for?"

Regina taps her chin thoughtfully for a few moments before her mind is drawn once again to the night of her proposal. She snaps her fingers gleefully, eyes alighting.

"Why don't you fetch the dress you wore that night?" she says. "We can both enshroud ourselves in pieces of our history and let the memories bolster us through the coming hours of tedium."

" _Ooooh_! That's a great idea!" Clapping with delight, she skitters away toward her own wardrobe, throws it open and begins rifling through it to find the correct dress. When she finds it, she pulls it out and sweeps a hand across the fabric, inhales deeply then lets out a slow, dreamy sigh. "Oh goodness, I haven't worn this in so long." Her face then scrunches up, nose crinkling adorably as if she's smelled something rotten all of the sudden. "I wonder if I still fit in it. Gracious me, I bet I've gained fifteen pounds since we got married..."

She most certainly has not gained a single pound and she does still fit in the dress as perfectly as the first time she wore it. Regina deliberately points this out when Red is all buttoned up and looking so beautiful she cannot breathe for several seconds. Seeing Red in that dress dredges up so many emotions, all of the best kind – warmth, happiness, security, hope, a feeling of home that supersedes all other places or people that were formerly with that word, and so much love that her chest can hardly contain it and her heart barely withstand it. And when Red smiles that smile, the one that announces she is feeling all the same things, Regina has to force herself to behave when all she wants is to reenact the epic culmination of that supremely wonderful night.

With much difficulty she limits herself to three kisses before rechecking their dresses to smooth down any remaining wrinkles and making any last minute adjustments to their hair or the pounds of priceless jewelry they are expected to wear at such occasions as Petition Day. And then they are off hand-in-hand toward the throne room to get on with the never-ending business of being monarchs.

For the past four years the first Thursday of each month has been dedicated as the official day the Crown receives petitions. Today happens to be one such Thursday, although Red certainly has made them fashionably late. No matter. It is not the first time, nor will it be the last.

As per tradition, until sunset the royal couple is availed to their subjects so that they may receive complaints in matters either successfully appealed to a higher authority than their local magistrates or too broad in scope to fall under the umbrella of local or regional adjudication. Sometimes Regina defers judgment to Red, who presides alongside her, while sometimes she handles matters herself. In the most critical cases they confer with one another and do not render judgment until a consensus is reached.

No matter who is deciding the outcome of the various cases, the days are invariably long and mentally arduous. By the time they are back in their chambers, weary of mind as of body, Regina is usually rueing her vulnerability to a certain brunette's ridiculously effective appeals. It was Red's fault, after all, she was convinced to reinstitute the monthly event she had canceled upon her ascension to the throne. Previously, she had foisted responsibility to oversee the relevant cases upon the Council of Nobles. The system worked well enough, just not for Red, who had an idealistic view of the monarchy primarily inspired by any number of Snow's sanctimonious sermons about the Crown's accountability to the people. Anyone else's pleading would have been dismissed with prejudice. The thing is, with anyone else Regina did not have to contend with soulful green eyes tugging imploringly at an invisible string tied around her heart and an exaggerated pout accentuating lips that were always begging to be kissed.

" _It really isn't fair,_ " she often laments to Iris, their handmaid, " _how easily the woman can weaponize a pout."_ Iris, usually struggling to contain a smile, simply reminds her she wouldn't wish it any other way. Which is true, not that Regina would ever admit to that.

On this particular occasion, there is an endless stream of claimants. They span the broad spectrum of society from nobles with petty squabbles over money and land to commoners whose penchant to be ruled by their passions has landed them into a variety of troubles. Most of the claims are easily handled within a matter of minutes, which leaves Regina to wonder why so many are left unattended by the local authorities.

 _Perhaps it is time for me to intervene_ , she tells herself as Red listens sympathetically to a woman's woeful tale. Apparently, her husband absconded to a neighboring kingdom with all of the capital from their business. Along with their most valuable, and much younger, employee. That this was not dealt with in the woman's district is revealing. Her subordinates are getting lazy, she decides, and she won't stand for it.

"I will personally write to Queen Abigail to negotiate the recompense of your lost capital," Red tells the woman, completely composed and in her element.

Red's current conduct is so unlike the uncertain, out-of-depths, skittish young commoner without an inkling about nobility, who for love of a Queen suddenly found herself thrust into the high pressure obligations of a monarch. There was a time she could not have spoken so many words without stammering or her voice being riddled with timidity. Years of practice have erased those hallmarks of what some might refer to as ineptitude, and Regina could not be more proud of the astounding progress that has been made. Red is every bit the graceful ruler she always knew she could be.

"Since taking the reins of rule, she has proven herself to be very reasonable," Red continues addressing the aggrieved woman who is hanging on her every word. "Also, the Queen and I have an excellent rapport with her that I'm sure she will take into account. Now, I cannot force your husband to come home, nor can I compel Queen Abigail to have him put in the stocks for a few days as he clearly deserves. But I can promise to do all I'm able to recoup your livelihood." When the woman nods gratefully, choking back a cry of thanks, Red gives her one of those patented smiles. "In the meantime, you will be extended a usury free loan to keep your business afloat. Should the overtures to Queen Abigail bear fruit, the treasury will simply account the incoming funds as your due repayment. Should they unexpectedly fail, you will be immediately forgiven half the debt and the rest you may pay as you are able over the course of five years. Does that sound fair?"

That question that causes Regina to wince, though she schools her features quickly lest her highly perceptive wife notice. Red is an excellent judge of character and has a keen mind for numbers, but sometimes her benevolent tendencies gets the better of her. She would be better served to care slightly less about what seems fair to those she is judging when said parties have a vested interest in exclusively and aggressively pursuing their own favor. What is fair to the petitioner is nearly always at odds with what is advantageous to the Crown.

But Regina has learned to pick her battles where her wife is concerned. In some areas, Red is as resistant to change as she is. And ultimately, she can't complain too much when Red's compassion offsets her own pragmatism, thus keeping the scales of justice in precarious balance. It's just another example of how well suited they are for one another. In this case, the kingdom just so happens to be the beneficiary.

"Yes, Your Majesty, very fair," the woman says, effusive with gratitude, as she ought to be considering the extraordinary mercy she's been shown. "I swear I won't forget this. Thank you! Thank you so much!"

"You're welcome," Red says, still smiling as she waves for the Chamberlain, who scurries at her beckoning. "Richard! Escort this lovely lady to the Treasury and instruct Ebeneezer to extend her a loan of twenty-five gold pieces, thirty-seven silver, and forty coppers." Eyes sharpening, she leans forward deliberately. "Make certain he understands the credit is to be without interest. If he gives you any lip about it, tell him I know what he did for Bob Crachit's boy and wouldn't mind one bit widely disseminating that little glimpse of his humanity."

"Yes, of course, Your Majesty. Right away," Richard replies, then bows deeply before gesturing toward the doors of the throne room. "Come along, dear. Let's get you sorted out. Shall we?" Still mumbling her thanks, the woman follows the Chamberlain out the door.

Regina chuckles lowly at Red's choice of tactic to handle their treasurer. "Well, well. Blackmail? I didn't know you had it in you."

Red harrumphs. "Serves the old codger right. What he did for Timmy was sweet. I don't see why he's so embarrassed about being kind to a sick kid on Yule. He could stand to do it more often."

"Not too often," Regina says, one corner of her lips twisting up wickedly. "Having an implacable Scrooge for our Treasurer has made us incredibly wealthy."

Red just laughs, shaking her head in exasperation as Regina waves the guard at the door. Obeying the silent command, he goes about granting admission to the next petitioner. While she waits, she relaxes into her throne and adopts an air of irritated boredom. Best to keep things moving along. Her old reputation still has it's uses. If people think she's on edge, they won't be as apt to take their liberties with time or tone.

Expecting another tedious case, she is not at all prepared for the panicked messenger who bursts through the grand double doors with all the delicacy of one of those berserkers from the north on the warpath. The man's face is awash with tension and sweat trickles down the long line of his square jaw. He is limping noticeably, favoring his left leg, while his left arm hangs uselessly at his side.

Regina jerks forward upon her throne and she hears Red gasp upon recognizing the knight as one currently serving in the far reaches of the realm. There is a garrison near the border shared with the realm Snow White and Prince Charming rule that he commands. It is one of the kingdom's most vital outposts. She has not suspected Snow and Charming of being up to no good for some time, but she cannot afford to leave anything to chance where her long-time enemy is concerned. An ounce of prevention and all that.

"Captain Locksley," she says to the faithful soldier. Her tone is strained as she was immediately set on edge by his frightful condition. "I am surprised to see you here seeing as I have not requested your presence. You are not due to give your yearly report for another six weeks. Why, then, have you abandoned your post?"

There are few more dependable men in service to the crown than Robin of Locksley. He is another one of Red's pet projects. A rugged survivalist who once made Sherwood Forest his home, he made an unlikely friend out of Misthaven's new Queen when he attempted to rob her carriage passing through on the way to visit her grandmother and her pals, Snow and Charming. Long had the Prince of Thieves been a nuisance to all three monarchs whose realms trisected the sprawling, labyrinthine forest most sane individuals preferred to avoid.

Bandits and thieves were not the only dangers that lurked in the deep shadows of Sherwood. There were unnatural terrors that made their home in the crevices and hollows of a forest as famous for not allowing light to penetrate its thick canopy as for being the last known location of the missing and presumed dead. Robin and his Merry Men scraped out a living there, what's more, they made it into a home. They were a formidable bunch of miscreants and outlaws. Just not formidable enough to take on a werewolf capable of destroying elite squadrons of highly trained soldiers all by herself. They had thought it a once in a lifetime stroke of luck spotting the Queen's carriage cutting through Sherwood's eastern flank. Red proved them wrong. When she was done, all eight of Robin's men were incapacitated and the legendary bowman himself treed by a wolf so massive even the skulking horrors of Sherwood fled from her in fear.

Of course, being the push over that she is, Red let them all go. She swears to this day Robin persuasively talked himself out of being brought in by offering to take her to their camp where he introduced her to his family and the families of his larcenous entourage. It is the exact same story she used to convince Regina to drop all charges against the exiled nobleman who was forced to flee for his life after his father was murdered and his good name ruined by a corrupt Sheriff who was angling to ingratiate himself to an equally unscrupulous Prince. When Red sets her mind to something, there is no changing it. Championing Robin's cause is proof enough of that. She was relentless in his defense and visited Sherwood often until she eventually wore down Regina's resolve. That Prince John was decidedly furious with her granting Robin and all of his Merry Men sanctuary provided an additional benefit to a decision that she has yet to have cause to regret.

There are few better suited for leadership than Captain Locksley. Before his exile, he had served in the army of his king and been a veteran commander of many battles on foreign soil. His experience with banditry only sharpened an already keen tactical mind and a broad, strong frame built for combat. It is little surprise that Mulan took an instant liking to him and brought him on as her second. Approving Mulan's appointment of him to commander over the strategic outpost nestled against the border with the White Kingdom was a foregone conclusion. Outside of her Commanding General, Captain Locksley is one of her finest soldiers.

Robin is also a good, kind, lionhearted man. He is an excellent father and a loving husband and very good friend to both Regina and Red. Which made discovering his lion tattoo a bit more palatable. Make no mistake, it threw her for a loop for a long time, but when she got over the shock, she realized who they might have been to one another made no difference in the present. When she walked away from the tavern, and him, that day so many years ago, she had made the right choice. Both of them were happier for her cowardice, and far better off. Having come to know Robin personally through Red, she is convinced they are fundamentally incompatible. How Tinker Bell's fairy magic linked them together, she has no idea except to theorize the bungling wasp made yet another mistake. Which is not out of the realm of possibility when Blue thought Tink so incompetent she was stripped of her wings then banished to Neverland of all places. Whatever the case for the mishap, Regina is glad she didn't listen to Tinker Bell. And so is Robin, who agrees wholeheartedly with her dubious assessment of them supposedly being Soul Mates. For him, that is Marian, while for her that is Red. No one can convince either of them otherwise.

Anyway, seeing Robin injured is unsettling enough without him having left his post. Deep in the pit of her stomach, she suspects that whatever brought him here today is about to shake the foundations of her life. She cannot imagine how right she is.

In response to Regina's pointed question, Robin ducks his head as he approaches the dais, kneeling before his Queen like the good soldier that he is, in spite of the pain the action causes. "I have not, my Queen," he replies after raising his head to meet her demanding gaze. His injuries aside, there is something in his tone that she's never heard before, a terror and fury that is reflected in his eyes. When Regina raises a brow at the deflection, he sighs, then proceeds to amend his statement. "I mean to say, Your Majesty, that there is no post left to abandon. The garrison has been burnt to the ground and the regiment slaughtered. I am the last living of seventy-five."

"What?!" she snaps, rising abruptly. Beside her, she feels Red stiffen in horror, and though her wife and fellow Queen remains seated, Red does scoot to the edge of her seat. Gripping the armrest so forcefully it groans out a creak, concern wafts out from her in waves. Regina does not have to glance down to know her wife's expression gives off much the same impression as her posture. "What the hell happened, Captain?" she then demands of her subordinate.

Captain Locksley's proud shoulders shrink inward at her tone. He is clearly haunted by the events that have lead him here, and Regina's harshness has only exacerbated the trauma he has suffered. She takes several slow breaths to calm her rising temper. Though her control returns, his reaction has ratcheted up her concern several degrees.

"I left my second in command in charge while I accompanied a patrol of new recruits in the local forests to personally gauge their mettle, as is my custom," he replies. "When I returned two hours later, the garrison was burning. It was unlike anything I had ever seen before. Green flames engulfed the entire structure, and the heat was so intense that I and the men who accompanied me on patrol could not get within twenty yards without being overcome. Inside, I could hear the tormented screams of those trapped and burning alive. That's when _she_ appeared." He looks away, his speech petering out as he gives a barely noticeable shudder.

"Who appeared, Robin?" Red then asks, much more gentle in her prodding.

Whereas Regina respects and trusts Captain Robin Locksley as a loyal soldier, Red values him as a friend. Affection for Red is not uncommon among the military. Their junior Queen is often to be found among them, having joined in on their training to keep her combat skills sharp or to simply enjoy the camaraderie of a tight-knit unit who depend upon one another to survive. They welcome her because she is one of those rare individuals whose smile unleashes the sun and whose eyes reflect the best version of those around her. Morale is measurably boosted whenever she is around. Her prowess in hand-to-hand and with the bow have earned their admiration, but it is her innate kindness and her unique ability to make them all laugh that inspires their undying love. For that reason alone, Regina tolerates her Queen spending so much time with a rough and tumble and often uncouth crowd. Held to an exceedingly high standard of comportment they may be, but her soldiers are still soldiers.

When Regina once expressed concern that Red was sacrificing her authority over them to gain their friendship, she refused to heed the warnings. She was determined to be uncomfortably close to the men and women she may one day have to order out to their deaths.

" _As Queen, I have sent legions to their inevitable doom_ ," Regina had explained. " _I was groomed to be able to deal with the repercussions, but I worry about your tender heart and the effect such a heavy weight might have on it. When factoring in your personal relationships with them, that worry gets a little too close to fear for my liking. You endanger yourself needlessly by befriending those who might be called to die tomorrow on your command._ "

" _If they are going to be sacrificing their lives for me at any time in the future_ , _then I owe them the respect of knowing them as human beings,_ " Red had countered, fierce in her stance. " _And don't be so concerned for my heart. I'm tougher than I look. You of all people should know that._ "

" _I do know that_ ," Regina had sighed. " _But you're my wife. My job is to protect you at all costs, even if that means the threat is from yourself._ "

And it is a job she will never relinquish by choice. That Red's goodness is only equaled by her toughness does not eliminate the obligation to shield her spouse from any and all pain she can. Red gets close enough to the troops as is considering the cold truth that armies are expendable. For that reason alone, she instituted a policy that keeps her companies out on rotations rather than permanently assigning one to the Citadel. Red cannot grow dangerously attached to men and women who are not constantly stationed in such close proximity. Selfish though it was, the change was what she believed to be best for Red at the time. That opinion has not changed one iota since.

Still, Red stubbornly finds ways to keep in touch with those she has grown particularly fond of. Such as her favorite drinking buddies, preeminent among them Captain Locksley and General Mulan.

In recognition of that friendship, Captain Locksley gives Red a small smile before his grimace returns in full force. "She did not speak her name," he then answers Red's question as to the identity of the person who has destroyed a vital garrison in the realm's defense. Regina is burning to know who it is so that she can personally see to it that they are captured and punished.

"Is there anything of value that you _can_ tell us?" Regina inquires. She doesn't mean to come off so harshly, but her hackles are raised and she is angry, an emotion she has always found incredibly difficult to conceal.

Captain Locksley winces, then nods in affirmation. "She was tall and beautiful, with pale skin and hair the color of the setting sun. She dressed in all black. I can also tell you also that she wiped out my men with little effort, wielding power that surpasses any I have witnessed. And I do not disrespect Your Majesty with that statement. It is merely an observation."

"Duly noted," Regina says through clenched teeth and then gestures in his direction. "So this woman is a tall and beautiful sorceress of great power. Is there anything else?" He nods, and she says, "Then by all means, continue."

"The most distinguishing thing about her," he goes on after a rasping cough, "is her skin. It is green, your Majesty, just as her magic."

Regina raises a judgmental brow. "And yet you say she was beautiful? If I didn't know your wife to be such a lovely woman, I would be inclined to question your tastes, Captain, if not your eyesight."

"Regina..." Red sighs, and Regina rolls her eyes.

"My apologies." She is insincere in her delivery. And while both Red and Captain Locksley are well aware she does not mean the apology, they accept it all the same. The soldier does so because she is his Queen whereas Red simply loves her unconditionally. "Was there anything else?"

"Yes, my Queen," Captain Locksley replies. "She did not kill me for a reason. She left me alive, though maimed, to deliver a message."

That grabs Regina's interest. "Oh? And what might that message be?"

He grunts and then coughs again, this time covering his mouth with the sleeve of his white tunic. When it comes away bloody, Red rises and makes to rush to his aid. Regina halts her with a hand on her forearm.

"Let the man speak," she says, not unkindly, "and then I will have him taken straight to the physician."

Red clearly has objections to this sequencing, but she defers out of propriety and trust. Although Regina has made Red a Queen in equal standing with her, as Red's elder, both in age and experience, it is common knowledge that Regina's word is the highest in the land, something with which Red is perfectly agreeable.

"The message is this," he says, and as he speaks, his voice morphs from his masculine timber into something altogether feminine. His accent shifts along with the change, making the effect jarring. Silence falls over the court as the Captain rises to his feet as if completely against his will.

Regina suddenly understands what is going on and she shifts herself to stand between her wife and the soldier whose will and motor function have been usurped in an act of magical prowess few are capable of. It's as if the man has been possessed, and in a manner, she knows he has been. Or at least a very specific part of him has been. A cold chill shoots down her spine. The taking of hearts is the darkest of magicks that only the Dark One and his disciples can perform. _Is it possible Rumplestiltskin is behind this?_

"No longer is this realm safe," the new voice proclaims. It is the witch, Regina knows, speaking through the Captain's heart, which she has wrenched from his chest. "There is a new ruler in Misthaven. Just as Oz before, Misthaven will fall and all shall bow to me. Beginning with you, Queen Regina." At that, Locksley's eyes level square on Regina. They are cold, so very cold, and devoid of humanity, and Regina can see by his corresponding expression that the individual controlling him is completely insane. "Let this be your one and only warning. I am coming for what is owed to me, and I will take it, leaving you broken at my feet before I end your miserable life. Prepare yourself accordingly, Your Majesty. The days of your reign are numbered."

And with that, Captain Locksley suddenly returns to himself. "My Queen, she intends to pois-" But he does not get to finish his sentence. He straightens with a sharp gasp and his eyes bug out in untold agony before he goes limp. He slumps face first to the floor as if a rag doll. Regina does not need to feel for a pulse to know he is dead, his heart having been ground to dust.

Shocked, she stares the prone, unmoving figure of her friend and faithful servant. Her heart races in her chest, anger and despair cascading through her torso with its every fierce collision against her rib cage. _Poor Marian and Roland._ How is she supposed to break this news to Robin's family? She aches for them and the pain they will soon have to endure. _And for what? Because some crazy bitch hates me?_

"Robin!" Red's voice suddenly rings out, shrill in her dismay. She scurries gracelessly to the fallen man's side and turns him over, cradling him in her arms. She calls his name several times as she paws at his face, trying to rouse him from a slumber that will never end. When reality finally dawns, she turns brimming eyes up to Regina, desperate for answers she can't give.

"I'm so sorry," Regina says, and then gestures for her guards to come and take the body. Red resists their initial attempts, growling at them through baleful yellow eyes. They spring back in fear. "Stand down, my love. You must let them take him," Regina then says, gathering her skirts to descend the dais. Once standing beside her grief stricken wife, she lays a gentle hand on her shoulder and the gestures for the guards to try again. When they come and crouch to gather the body of their fallen comrade, Red does not protest, although she whimpers as Captain Locksley is taken from her arms and carried away.

Only after the doors close behind the guards does Red lift herself from the floor. She stands for several moments, breathing heavily and trying not to cry in front of the entire court. Regina takes her hand and gently cups her face.

"Go to our chambers and do as you must away from prying eyes," she says, eyes imploring Red to listen. She knows Red needs to have a long, miserable cry and can't unless she is sequestered somewhere private – it is not becoming for a queen, even one as informal and famous for her gentle heart as Red, to show such sentimentality in front of her subjects. "I will take care of business here and then come to you directly." Red begins to protest, but Regina does not let her. "Please, darling. For me."

"Okay. For you," Red agrees after a moment of silence. A solitary tear rolls down her cheek.

Heedless of the impropriety, Regina leans in to give her wife a kiss upon the forehead, hoping that it helps, even if just a little, to alleviate her grief.

It is unbearable to see Red in any kind of pain, making for a stressful life considering Red is a werewolf who enjoys getting into trouble at every opportunity. Often she incurs injuries that, were she human, would be lethal or at best have severely maimed her. Being that she is a werewolf, she bounces back quickly, but that doesn't assuage Regina's anxieties any at all. She still frets over Red every time she limps home wounded from a scuffle with a bear or some other large animal during Wolf's Time, and still hovers like a worried mother hen whenever something happens that wounds Red's sensitive heart.

To her relief, Red ducks her head to accept the kiss, and seems to marginally calm down before giving Regina a weak smile. Without another word, she departs the throne room. And though her shoulders are drawn in and her gait is a bit uneven, she holds her head high.

Knowing that Red is processing what has happened without becoming mired in anger or sorrow helps Regina to go about the rest of her day. She finishes taking petitions an hour past midday, having cut them short due to recent events. That she'd continued on at all surprises even her. Routine, she has discovered, helps to soothe frayed nerves so she can think more clearly. By the time the last of the petitions is heard, the burning outrage from the Captain's news and his subsequent death have been reduced into smoldering embers. A manageable state through which she can plan without being reckless.

Afterward, she retires to her chambers to check on Red, whom she finds curled up asleep in their bed. She did not need to see reddened, splotchy cheeks or smeared mascara around the eyes for her to recognize an almost palpable grief. She had heard snoring before she opened the chamber door, and that was more than enough evidence. Red only ever snores when she is totally exhausted, suffering from a rare bout of allergies at the changing of the seasons, or is overly worried about something that plagues her mind even in her sleep.

Knowing how deeply wounded Red is by the Captain's death hurts, and not in a way that indicates any kind of jealousy. This is one of the reasons she so worries about Red's frequent interactions with the men and women sworn to protect the realm and the royal family. Soldiers die. It is a hard, inescapable fact of life in a world torn by strife between rival kingdoms and factions often at each other's throats. Conflicts spark into life with such regularity and with so little advanced notice that every monarch with the means to do so keeps standing armies in battle-readiness year around. Whether small or large, battles mean a pile of wounded and dead for both sides.

Regina has attempted countless appeals for Red to be careful with her heart. A sensitive one such as hers should not be made to endure repeated losses, which it will because many of the soldiers she has befriended will die in combat long before reaching middle age. But Red ignores those pleas in favor of continuing to spar with the castle's garrison and clandestinely patronize her favorite pub with her friends of military persuasion. Twice a month they gather in the little town located at the base of the mountain upon which the castle sits to carouse and tell stories and laugh until their bellies hurt. The only reason Regina hasn't put a stop to it is because of how happy it makes Red to have that time to unwind with folk cut from the same cloth as her. Commoners have this universal thread of acceptance as to the importance of having fun in the grand scheme of life. Regina thinks it is because they all understand, much more clearly the nobility, how tragically brief and ruthless life is.

There was a time in Regina's life she valued fun also, but her fun had been of a different sort. To her, riding horses or fencing with her private instructor or passing a lazy afternoon reading were ideal forms of recreation. Not that she can indulge in such things when being Queen imposes strict restraints on very nearly her every waking hour. The majority of what precious spare time she has is allocated for her family. Only what remains is spent on hobbies. But that doesn't mean she begrudges Red her outings. Quite the opposite. She isn't so callous that she would deny Red any opportunity to enjoy herself when that would be just the same as locking her up in a cage, gilded as it may be.

Werewolves are social creatures who require interaction not only with other wolves but with other people. Normally the pack would meet both of these needs. But Red is without a true pack, which means she has to find stimulation elsewhere by running in her fur with the wolf packs native to Misthaven and by commiserating with what human friends she is able to make that Regina approves as trustworthy. That stipulation rubbed Red the wrong way many a time, but it was the only way Regina was going to let her Queen spend time away from her personal guard and outside of Regina's proximity. Captain Locksley was the first person Red met in the Dark Palace that Regina found worthy of that trust. He was, other than Snow, Red's oldest friend.

The sorrow written upon Red's face and evident upon her still form even in slumber elicits an acute need to crawl into bed with her wife, if only to give her what comfort she can. It's a crying shame their Huntsman is so far afield, else she could indulge her selfish desires. But Graham is even more indisposed than Mulan, and with no one else she trusts enough to handle this crisis, the responsibility falls to her. It is with great difficulty that she scrounges up enough strength to leave after watching over Red for only a few precious minutes.

Before departing, she again brushes her lips against her wife's forehead and whispers, "I love you. I really am so sorry."


	7. Ruins

**Chapter 5** – Ruins

With nothing else pressing on the agenda aside from the threat now being posed to the kingdom, Regina hones in on finding a solution. The first order of business is to visit the garrison posted within the castle and speak to its commander. Being that Red is asleep, she realizes the opportunity present for her to do something proactive. Transporting herself and a small squadron of troopers to and from the outpost that was destroyed fit the bill perfectly. A personal inspection is in order to best assess the current threat level.

The effort will severely deplete her stores of energy, as the outpost is far away, thus making her vulnerable should the witch choose to attack once more. All variables considered, it is a calculated risk she deems worth taking. The need for information is dire and she is fairly confident in making an educated guess that the witch has strategically abandoned the vicinity. The dramatic tragedy in the throne room was arranged solely for show, as was the destruction of the garrison, which draws inescapable parallels to the troubling events in Drakkenhall. In light of recent events there is no disputing Mulan's prescient assessment about sorcery being involved in those attacks, as it is equally certain that the same witch perpetrated all of the recent devilry afoot.

Taking all of this into account, a quick trip to the garrison poses little danger to her outside of the threat of death by bug bite, the region being an infamous year-round breeding ground for all manner of disgusting creepy crawlies. There will be no direct confrontation just yet, having already sent a clear enough message. Mind games will likely be played for some time rather before the witch dares show her face. Frankly the entire situation makes Regina feel like a mouse at the mercy of the cat who is drawing amusement from toying with its food, and she doesn't like it one bit.

 _Well_ , _I'm no one's prey, least of all some upstart pretender._ She harrumphs matter-of-factly at her own internal monologue. _I'm the Evil Queen dammit! So if that witch wants to have a go at me, she can bring it on. I won't be tucking tail and running. Nor do I plan to hunker down and hide. No, no, indeed. Mother taught me to always face my problems head on, and that is exactly what I am going to do. And when I'm through, that smug bitch won't know what hit her._

The thought of her enemy broken before her brings a smile to Regina's blood red lips.

After consulting with Captain Rodrigo, who remains to date one of her most trusted and highly valued officers, she has him summon his five best troops to the courtyard. There, she instructs the assembled men stand in a circle pressed in tightly together and near enough to her so that they can touch her.

"Once I've summoned my magic, I will give the command for you all to place your hands upon my shoulders," she tells them, out of habit more than necessity. These men all know better than to cop a feel and plead an accidental slip of the hand. That said, she is not about to take any chances with her current mood. Such an _accident_ will most assuredly result in violence. "The barest contact will suffice," she adds. "Don't get handsy. Offenders will be relieved of their appendages. Every last one of them." They all gulp in concert and then nod that they've understood both the instructions and the implication of the threat attached to them. Satisfied, she meets the gaze of her garrison commander. "Captain, are you ready to depart?"

"Yes, your Majesty," Rodrigo diligently replies.

"Very well, let us begin." And with those words, Regina draws up to her full height and raises her hands to the heavens. That place inside her chest that holds the well of her magic begins to pulsate with life. Tapping into it, she draws the required amounts of energy to transport herself and her men across the relatively vast distance between the Dark Palace and the remote garrison on the border of the White Kingdom.

As she gathers magical energy, the wind begins to whip around her, and her skirts begin flapping at her ankles. Purple magic swirls around her arms and in her eyes, and she grins with glee at the feeling of omnipotence that floods over her, inundating her in the ecstasy of so much primordial power at her disposal.

Upon reaching the required threshold, she returns her focus to the men tightly gathered around her and shouts over the din of wind and crackling magic, "Make contact now!" As instructed, they touch their hands to her shoulders as one and the second the final hand joins the pile, Regina closes her eyes, thinks of the garrison in her mind and commands her magic to transport them all there.

A great burst of sound and energy goes out in waves from the epicenter of her body, radiating outward to fill the entire courtyard, and then in a flash of bright light, they are swept away. A blink of the eye later, they are standing outside the garrison in exactly the place she had imagined. Pride fills her at her display of sorcerous skill. She has not always been so adept at transportation spells. Offensive magic is her specialty, so utility spells such as those that move matter both animate and inanimate from one destination to another did not come easily. But years of practice have sharpened her skills to fine edge so that she is now able to transport masses of people – incidentally the most complex of all organisms to transport – over short distances or small numbers over very large ones with perfect accuracy.

 _And Rumple said I'd never get the hang of it. Shows what he knows. That crotchety old crocodile. I don't much care for Killian Jones after he helped Mother, but his little nickname for the Dark One is one thing he got on the nose..._

While Regina turns to inspect the charred and smoking ruins of the garrison, she allows her men a moment to recover. Half of them are keeled over at the waist, emptying their stomachs and groaning while some of the others are shaking their heads to restore their sense of balance. Vertigo and nausea are a common side effect from such matter displacement spells, though for whatever reason, the effects are dispersed over greater numbers of bodies. Had it just been her and one of the others, her passenger likely would have passes out.

Only the Captain remains wholly unaffected by their asymmetrical mode of travel. No matter how affected one is by their first time being transported via magic, the human body grows accustomed to it over time. Rodrigo is an accomplished veteran after so many faithful years in her service and has traveled with her many times since his appointment to her personal guard so many years ago. Stalwart and dependable as always, he helps his troops to regain their balance as best he can.

Once recovered enough, Regina intends to order a sweep of the area to scout for any tracks left behind. She doubts they will find so much as the slightest imprint of a feminine heel, but it never hurts to look. It is always possible the witch blundered during the assault and left behind evidence in her overconfidence at securing such a successful opening gambit. Assaulting entrenched positions or enemy fortifications is a messy endeavor no matter how experienced the magician. Powerful or not, spell-casters are still human beings with a penchant for making mistakes under pressure. Sloppy incantations or magical projectiles hurled awry are not uncommon during a pitched battle, and that is when the odds are significantly better than the fifty to one this witch took on without a second thought.

Such hubris says much to Regina about this person who has dared infiltrate her territory, destroy her property, and slaughter her soldiers. Glancing about the area, she can see the main thrust of the witch's attack, marked by a charcoal pathway of scorched earth leading from the front gate all the way to the barracks some seventy-five yards away. No building was left unscathed. The mess was reduced to cinders. The officer's quarters were utterly annihilated down to the last brick. Even the armory, the most highly fortified installation in the entire garrison, is now little more than a husk of blackened beams and smoldering floor panels. This enemy, whoever she is, adopted an approach that made Regina's typical flagrant aggression appear tame in comparison. No fear whatsoever could reside within the stone cold heart of a woman capable of brazenly assaulting such a heavily defended encampment. That she then proceeded to rain down death and hell onto a stocked garrison of trained fighters who could kill a human being in a hundred different ways without breaking a sweat makes her an even more formidable opponent. Certainly not one to be taken lightly...

Rotting carcasses lay strewn all about the courtyard, some in piles of two or three, some in halves and others in too many pieces to count. The carnage is unspeakable, and Regina's nose curls at the stench. Death shrouds the entire site, a pall that hangs in the air, seeps into her lungs, and would have robbed her of the ability to breathe deeply or think clearly had she not spent so much time in it's pitiless presence. Though most of these men and women are relative strangers to her, at the very least she knew them all by name. Heartless as most believe her to be, she is not untouched by the sacrifices her soldiers make in her name on a daily basis, nor is she ignorant – or unappreciative – of their loyalty.

Families of the slain are well cared for out of the well-stocked royal coffers, and have been since Red so delicately coaxed their Queen's caring, nurturing maternal side out of exile. It now pains Regina to think of how she will soon be writing so many letters of condolence, whereas before she would have either shrugged off the duty to an underling or dismissed the permanent consequences of her choices as causalities of necessity or collateral damage in her endless pursuit of vengeance. Ignoring the wives, husbands, sons, daughters, mothers, and fathers of these poor souls who have all been bereaved of someone precious and irreplaceable to them is virtually impossible now that she has someone like that to lose as well.

A fair few of the lost not charred beyond recognition are identifiable as spouses of noble ladies who were inspired by her marriage to Red. Bucking tradition requires far less bravery when the Queen is the one who set the unconventional precedent. These ladies, while far from trailblazers, made the most of the new opportunity to marry for love rather than to advance the family name or estate by joining a higher social strata. Regina cannot fault them for being coattail chasers when she is glad for others to have avoided such an odious fate to which she was once condemned, and not just because she is in a position to offer genuine sympathy born of her having failed to escape the conspiring clutches of her mother and Leopold. Since the wedding, she has come to know each of these women personally. She even lunches with a number of them on a biweekly basis and dines with their families at least once per month if her – and Red's – hectic scheduling permits. They have formed a club of sorts, having been initiated into it by an unspoken oath to support fellow nobles who refuse to let tradition dictate the future and so irreparably damage their hearts. She counts them all as friends. What is she supposed to tell them? That some stranger appeared in the dead of the morning like a wraith unleashed from the pits of Hades then went on to mercilessly slaughter their loved ones for an indeterminate reason? That would not do. Not at all. Especially when she is already personally invested due to Robin's demise. Red is not the only one who lost a friend in him...

Burning for answer, not only for Red's sake, but for her friends' and her own, Regina squares her shoulders and takes a steadying breath. "Fan out," she says to her troops, now all recovered from the instantaneous magical trip. "Search the perimeters first then spiral inward. I'll start in the armory." Rather than argue as he might have on any normal occasion his Queen orders him to leave her defenseless, Rodrigo merely nods gravely. Either her expression is one brokering no argument, or he is, himself, as desperate for answers as she is, which is not unlikely as Robin was his comrade in arms. Whatever the case, Regina is grateful for the easy deference. There is little time to waste if she's to pick up any sort of magical trail left behind by the assailant.

As Rodrigo begins barking more precise orders to his men, Regina enters the wreckage of the garrison. Careful to step over the still-smoldering corpses, many of them relieved of all vestiges of flesh, she makes her way to the armory at the center of the sprawling circular compound. As she trudges through the sheer devastation, she marvels that this place was once a living, bustling hub of activity.

When the garrison was built some time before her marriage to Leopold, the village nearby was too small for a proper marketplace, thus the garrison became the _de facto_ center of commerce for this remote region of Misthaven. Soon enough, the two became inextricably intertwined, especially since most of the rank and file soldiers took spouses of the villagers and settled there after their discharge or retirement. Since, the village now designated Tamerlon has swelled to thrice it's previous size and now houses a market of it's own for immediate essentials such as perishable produce. Meanwhile the garrison has remained the primary location of trade for textiles, arms, tools, and beasts of burden, meaning the repercussions of its destruction will be far reaching. Rebuilding could take years, too long for an economy with such a fragile underbelly to subsist on its own. Emergency measures will likely have to be deployed, though what exactly those are, is uncertain. Such decisions will just have to wait.

Inside the blackened, skeletal remnants of the armory, little remains of consequence save for metallic objects whose melting point was too high for the witch's fire to liquefy them. There are still a few shields and swords hanging from the walls upon weeping hooks that, while disfigured by the heat of the fire, are nonetheless in salvageable condition. Tragically, so far as she can tell at a glance, no books, scrolls, or parchments survived the inferno. Nearly two decades worth of records lost.

 _So unnecessarily wasteful._

"Whoever you are, whatever your reasons for this travesty, I swear you'll pay," Regina sneers angrily, heated glare skirting over the shriveled geist of a once proud and noble edifice. Robin's face flashes through her mind then, his features twisting grotesquely as his heart was crushed, frothing blood leaking from his lips as his eyes glassed over and the light of life was snuffed out of them. Her friend was dead, his family aggrieved as payback for a petty offense she has no clue about perpetrating. Caustic rage bubbles up from the seething cauldron of her heart.

" _Will I now? That's a bold claim I'm dying to see you try and back up._ "

The distinctly accented voice that replies to Regina's rhetorical statement is the same she had heard back in court – the voice of the butcher who committed this dastardly crime. A woman she has every intention of torching at the stake, unwritten rules of dispensing justice among fellow witches be damned.

"Who's there?" she poses warily. Although painfully aware with whom she is speaking, her better self desiring to exercise some measure of caution wins out. Best to probe carefully lest she expose herself to needless danger.

" _I am, of course. Who else would it be? Mother Gothel? Climbed any towers lately to save your very own Ra-pup-zel?_ " Mockery infuses the witch's reply, who is obviously having a grand time at Regina's expense. Her haughty accent only makes the purposefully obtuse response all the more infuriating.

Growling in irritation, Regina adopts a pose meant to intimidate and bares her finely polished teeth. "Show yourself, fiend. Or are you too afraid now that a fellow witch is here to stand up to you?"

" _Oh, pish posh! Your quaint parlor tricks are naught but a nuisance to me._ "

A self-assured answer to be sure, and lacking no confidence. Still, there is an inflection in tone that indicates Regina has scored a point in their game of verbal sparring.

She smirks smugly, making a show of turning in a slow circle to search for her adversary's appearance. "If that's true, why don't you come out and face me? Surely if I'm nothing but a nuisance, you should have no trouble dispensing of me."

The witch tuts audibly. " _Would if I could, your Majesty, but I'm currently indisposed. Complicated business to attend to elsewhere, you see._ "

Taking the witch at her word, Regina narrows her eyes and begins to pace. The wheels are already turning in her mind, making connections from her years practicing and studying magic. A disembodied voice can only emanate from so many sources. Summoned wisps, for instance, can be used to deliver audible messages, and some vaguely discernible conversation can be conducted via scrying bowls. The most reliable and effective method, however, and thus her personal preference, is through any glass with a reflective surface.

"You're speaking to me through a mirror somewhere, aren't you?" she guesses, and is immediately validated by an approving cluck.

" _Clever girl. Brava. You're not a total wash, then. It seems Mummy Cora wasn't entirely wrong about you._ "

The personal reference stops Regina in her tracks and distracts her from searching for the mirror through which the witch is speaking. The back of her neck prickles in alarm as does the fine hair on her forearms. Few living individuals know her mother's identity, and all of them save Red and her Father she considers to be enemies.

"How do you know my mother?" she asks, or rather demands.

" _All in due time, Queenie,_ " says the witch, who to Regina's fury is apparently not keen on revealing her hand just yet. " _For now, I just wanted to take this opportunity to make you a one-time offer. If I were you, I'd listen. It's a good one._ "

Regina grinds her teeth together before responding. "Is that so? This ought to be interesting." She folds her arms across her chest as if bored. "Go ahead, then. What is this enticing offer of yours?"

" _Abdicate first thing tomorrow morning. When I arrive in person, kneel before me in worshipful submission. Surrender all you have to me, all of your wealth and power, your lands and estates, and I may be persuaded let you live. It depends on how sweetly and effectively you grovel, really._ "

Ebony brows shoot straight up to Regina's hairline, not only at the absurd suggestion she grovel before this ridiculous woman but that said woman has just contradicted herself. "Surrender and I live? I thought you wanted to destroy me? To, what was it you said, ' _end my miserable life_ '?"

A brief pause ensues before the witch sighs in resignation, then says, " _I did say that, didn't I?_ "

"You did, indeed," Regina retorts drolly.

" _Well, I admit can be a bit rash at times. Father always said my constitution matched my hair. I am not without some semblance of reason, though_."

Regina scoffs in disbelief, eyes flitting over the carbonized ruins of the garrison and its inhabitants. "Could have fooled me with this totally unprovoked display of aggression."

" _What can I say? I'm a woman who takes what she wants. Of all people, I thought you'd appreciate that attribute._ "

"Oh, I do. Just not when what's being taken is mine."

The witch's laughter rings out, an awful sound of hysterical madness that Regina recognizes all too well. Used to, she'd hear it from her own lips on a daily basis. Sometimes, on very bad days, she still does. Turns out it sounds so much more deranged coming from this woman, which is somewhat of a relief to Regina. However deeply she'd descended into madness after Daniel's death, at least there is one person crazier than she ever was.

" _Touché!_ " says the witch, lilted with amusement. More calmly, she then adds, " _I have to confess my surprise to find we are more alike than I'd previously thought._ "

Regina balks at the suggestion. "I'm nothing like you!"

Much as she'd like to believe that forceful declaration, the words ring hollow before they even pass her lips. She has changed since Red came into her life, quite drastically from all reliable accounts, so that many say the Evil Queen is no more. Sadly, nothing could be further from the truth. That old malefic persona is merely dormant now, much like her innocence and goodness had been before a leggy brunette dared to slaughter her best troops and then proceeded to defiantly sass her on a bitterly cold mountain pass. Red awakened the woman trapped inside the monster, helped that wilted waif build strength enough to gain a dominant foothold even. But who's to say the roles could not reverse again should the stars properly align? ' _The fall_ ,' Rumplestiltskin liked to say, ' _is always much more expeditious than the rise._ '

As if privy to Regina's very thoughts, the witch crows with insufferable delight. " _And yet you've slain ten times the souls I have and persecuted an innocent, if not annoying, princess for a transgression beyond her control._ " Unable to formulate a response, Regina stews silently, hating that the witch is right and wondering at how the woman could possibly know so much about her. " _Ooo. Hit a nerve, have I?_ " the annoying woman continues gloating. " _No witty retort? No sarcastic barb to fling? Have you exhausted all of your venomous verbal ammunition?_ " Again, Regina can muster no response except to glare in the direction from which the voice emanates. " _Oh, come now. Don't look so put out, Queenie. It's quite alright. No one is perfect. Not even little old me._ "

Hands going to her hips, Regina's lips curl as her anger levels begin to rise once more. "Obviously. Because you're sorely mistaken if you think I'll ever go to my knees for you or anyone else."

The witch giggles suggestively. " _Well, that's just an outright lie now, isn't it? You do it plenty for that supple brunette tart of yours. Not that I blame you in the slightest. Such a pretty thing, she is. I have to wonder if she tastes as delectable as she looks..._ "

The obscene reference to her intimate relationship with her wife catches Regina off guard for a moment. But when it sinks in, she feels the vein in her forehead start to throb as her anger transforms into something far more sinister. No one in the kingdom has dared to openly speak of Red in such a way since she had a lecherous cad flogged for giving a grossly detailed description of what he'd like to do to Misthaven's junior Queen. Red hadn't been pleased the man was punished at all, but Regina insisted it was a fair compromise considering her preference was to order certain important body parts to be removed with the dullest knife in all the realm.

This witch would receive no such leniency. Having murdered Robin and slaughtered a garrison without a cause was reason enough for her to destroy the woman without having crossed such an intensely personal line.

"You'll never find out as long as I'm breathing," Regina says after a moment, fury boiling over into her speech. "And for that matter, I invite you to speak of my wife with such vulgarity again in my presence. For starters, I'd be more than happy to relieve you of that obnoxious, wagging tongue of yours. We'll see where we go from there."

The witch laughs again, this time with more subdued humor. The threat had translated, even if the effect was more subdued than Regina would have liked when she is riled up and itching for a fight.

" _Fair enough_ ," says the witch. " _I suppose your hostility means I have my answer, then._ "

Jaw set, Regina nods curtly, knowing she can be seen. "I suppose you do."

" _Well, in that case I'll be seeing you soon, Your Majesty. Very soon, indeed._ "

For effect, Regina leans with unveiled malice toward the voice of her new nemesis. "I'll be waiting with bated breath."

" _You shouldn't be, Regina,_ " the witch says, and her tone carries a confidence that nearly causes Regina to falter. " _You really, really shouldn't be_."

In retrospect, Regina will wish she had paid heed to the warning.


	8. The Evening Song

**A/N:** Notes at the bottom on this one.

 **Standard Disclaimer** : These lovely characters ain't mine, I just play with them gently. Please don't sue me. The mistakes are mine, though.

* * *

 **Chapter 7** – The Evening Song

Drained of energy yet buzzing with barely suppressed rage, Regina stalks through the cluttered hallways of the Dark Palace, skirts swirling and servants scattering in the wake of her fury.

In the immediate aftermath of the disembodied encounter with the witch who murdered so many of her people, including one of her closest friends, she accompanied Rodrigo on his inspection of the ruins of Tamerlon. To their horror, at the tail end of the looping canvass they discovered a densely packed pile of bodies, perhaps forty or fifty individuals, still smoldering in the ashes of what used to be a twelve hundred fifty square foot octagonal chapel to the goddess Ēostre, the matron deity of fertility and renewal. No lengthy investigation was required to deduce that these were civilians unable to evacuate and thus trapped inside the fort when the assault began. No doubt Robin, the garrison commander, ordered the noncombatants there for their safety, not anticipating he would be unable to defend the stronghold against a single sorceress. That error in judgment, however reasonable it would have seemed in the heat of the moment, cost so many innocents their lives.

Regina offered no comment as Rodrigo poked and prodded around the often brittle remains on the outer rim and top of the pile, in a futile search for any surviving identification. As he gingerly, and respectfully as possible, dug through the charred corpses he began verbalizing the conclusion she had already arrived at as to how these poor souls met such a grisly demise. Instead of offering her thoughts on the matter as she probably should have, all Regina could do was stand there staring, transfixed by the grotesque scene, impotent rage and indescribable grief becoming more and more unbearable by the second. Only when Rodrigo reached the inner ring amongst the slain and started uncovering the children, the first of them barely a toddler, did she manage to wrench her eyes away. Unable to tolerate anymore of the unspeakable tragedy, she fled as fast as her legs could carry her and scurried outside to where no one could see her just so she could vomit what little remained undigested of the lunch she and Red were served during a break at court. As she wiped her mouth of the sick with a handkerchief she then promptly discarded, she silently vowed justice for the atrocity perpetrated on the residents of Tamerlon, soldier and innocent civilian alike.

 _That abominable bitch is going to pay if it's the last thing I do,_ Regina thinks, the olfactory memory of ash and roasted flesh along with the sight of burnt women and children fresh in her mind as she thunders through a clogged tee intersection. She shoulders her way past a throng of bodies milling across and then emerges into the less busy Royal Wing of the castle. When at last she reaches her bedchambers, she bursts through the doors without bothering to knock and announce herself, having forgotten in her hyper-agitated state that she had left Red asleep less than three hours ago. Fortunately for Regina, Red is already awake, relieving her of any guilt at her raucous entry.

Seated upon the cushioned bench under the grand bay window that overlooks the forest stretching as far as they eye can see beyond the citadel, Red's posture telegraphs an exceedingly gloomy state of mind. She is scrunched up as tightly as possible for her lanky limbs, legs folded up against her torso, arms draped over them holding them in place, her head resting upon them with her cheek against her knees so that she can stare morosely out the window. She is no longer in the dress she wore to court, having exchanged the formal garment for a drab gray cotton shift that spills off her starkly pale shoulders and swallows up her svelte frame. Her long bangs are tied back behind her head by a butterfly clasp she borrowed from Regina's collection. With every breath she takes, her chest shivers and the muscles in her forearms constantly twitch as she incessantly worries her hands together.

Regina doesn't need to hear the mournful sniffle that disturbs the silence to have known what was going on. Red had not even flinched in acknowledgement of her dramatic arrival, which never happens because Red can hear her heartbeat from several yards away. There is practically no sneaking up on her, which means she had heard Regina coming and made a conscious choice not to greet her. That alone is cause for alarm, though Regina tempers any fretful reaction by reminding herself that Red is hurting right now and that, self-sacrificial, beautiful, wonderful idiot that she is, she probably did not want her crying to be the first thing Regina saw upon coming home.

Approaching with respectful caution, Regina steps up beside Red at the bench and risks passing her fingers through her wife's silky locks. She runs them through from temple all the way down to its end at her lower back in one long, languid stroke. Red shudders at the contact, her breath hitching over a choked sob. Rather than speak or act in any way that might pressure Red to engage with her before she's ready, Regina forces herself to remain as she is, just slowly and tenderly sifting her fingers through Red's hair as she cries without making any noise other than a few plaintive whimpers and a lot more sniffles. Eventually the tears and the shaking cease, and only when that happens does Red lift her head from her knees and crane her face up to brave looking at Regina. Bloodshot green eyes lock with hers, such indescribable sadness staining them Regina feels her own eyes well up with moisture. Tear tracks have eroded a wavy, irregular path through mascara lightly applied to Red's cheeks, which are visibly ruddy from her overwrought emotional state. Her chin trembles and creases as she gazes up, silently imploring Regina to make the hurt stop.

"Oh, sweetheart," Regina says, nearly breathless due the suddenly pervasive ache in her chest. With the same gentility she might support a newborn baby's head, she cradles Red's cheek and brushes the tears away with her thumb. "What can I do? Anything at all. Name it and I'll do it without question."

A plump lower lip disappears between pearly white teeth, Red appearing more uncertain and shy and frail than she has in years. Still, she is so distraught and needy, she scrounges up the courage to speak her desire.

"Would you hold me for a little while?"

Rather than chastise Red for doubting for even a second she would accommodate such a reasonable and welcome request, Regina gives her a gentle smile followed by a soft brush of her fingers down the length of an elegant jawline.

"Of course I will," she says, then gestures at Red. "Scoot forward a bit so I can slide in behind you."

Once Red obeys, Regina snaps her fingers to change out of her dress into a pair of tan cotton breeches she likes to garden in and a plain white blouse with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows, the top three buttons left undone. Feet left bare and now much more comfortable, she clambers up onto the bench behind Red, arranges herself against the back wall with her outstretched legs open and propped up slightly leaving an acute inverse chevron beneath her elevated knees, then pats her lap a couple times in invitation. Red does not hesitate to slide back into Regina's waiting arms, which wind low around her waist as she settles her back against Regina's front, her head resting against Regina's collar, cheeks pressed together, warmth to warmth. Regina tilts her face so she can nuzzle her nose into Red's cheek a few times, then presses a series of kisses to Red's temple before returning to their original alignment.

She chuckles when Red heaves a deep sigh of contentment and covers Regina's arms with her own, their hands automatically weaving together almost of their own accord.

"Is this okay?" she asks, starting to sway them gently side to side like a doting mother would when rocking her troubled child back to sleep after a bad dream.

Red hums confirmation, then adds with a pleading inflection, "Know what would make it even better? _Das Abendlied._ "

Regina groans, stilling their movement. Just her luck Red would request a traditional like that, knowing she would want it sung in the seldom used tongue of her kin.

Like Regina and most nobles whose houses are expected to regularly entertain foreign dignitaries, Red is multilingual – another aspect that makes her a rarity among the class into which she was born. Although hailing from a poor backwater village to a line of peasant stock stretching back as far as her family history kept records, Red was raised speaking her native language alongside the common one used throughout the Enchanted Forest. Most of her peers spoke only the common, their kin having relinquished the old ways for the sake of gradually encroaching modernity, which not only included eschewing local linguistic flavor but religious fervor as well – worship of the many colorful deities native to that region has nearly been eradicated. Despite this prevailing abandonment of regional heritage, and a profound aversion to all religion, Red's grandmother was unwilling to cast aside five hundred years of tradition and wished to keep alive their deeply burrowed roots within their indigenous soil. Even if most of Red's generation could barely put together a sentence in their ancestral tongue, Red was made to learn it first before being introduced to common in time for her to grasp it before beginning what little schooling was afforded children of her station.

Out of respect for Regina's heritage, Red also learned the language of her father-in-law's people, so the least Regina could do was return the favor. Red proved a patient teacher, and a good one, able to confer the meaning of words phrases in a simple way that improved memory imprinting. Such was Red's knack for linguistic instruction that Regina recommended she formally teach any palace-dwellers who wished to add another language to their portfolio – Red has since hosted three such classes and has seventy new speakers of Saxon to boast of.

Admittedly, Regina has grown quite fond of Saxon. So much so that she enjoys speaking it every bit as much as her native Andalusian, if not more, as the language has a certain bite to it, a sort of intrinsic fury that rides knuckle tight upon every harsh syllable. When she gets really upset and does not want to cause _too_ much of a scene in public, she will often resort to unleashing a string of unutterable expletives in Saxon upon her unwitting and confused victim. Strangely enough, though, Red feels the same about Andalusian, preferring it to her mother tongue, especially when they are locked in an intimate embrace. Says it is energetic and romantic and gets her tongue good and loose. Regina does not protest very much because for one she sort of agrees about Andalusian being energetic and romantic, and two she's not a moron. Naked Red can get away with saying a lot things without being contradicted, especially when she's referring to the use of her tongue. Funny thing how that works...

In any case, the problem isn't having to sing the lullaby in Saxon so much as it is having to sing at all. Regina has never considered her singing voice to be anything special. While she can carry a tune just fine, it is sounds rather plain to her if not a little huskier than most women. By no means is her voice as extraordinary as Red makes it out to be. If Red is to be believed, it is a rival to that of the angels, as if she the idea she has ever heard such a sound is not absolutely ridiculous. And when Regina tells Red she's just biased, that her voice is really not so great, Red either ignores her altogether to continue insisting otherwise or suggests she might need to pay a visit to Victor and get her ears checked out. The sassy little minx. How Red gets away with all she does is a puzzle Regina has yet to solve, nor is particularly keen to since she is either the primary beneficiary of those shenanigans or is far too amused by them to be upset.

"Please? Pretty please? With sugar on top?"

Glancing over, Regina finds Red staring at her with those huge soulful puppy eyes, lips pursed in an exaggerated pout there is no arguing against. Resistance would only be a waste of time and energy when both of them know she is going to concede no matter how much she does not want to sing right now. Looking at her that way, Red could ask her to belch the alphabet and she would probably give it a try.

" _Bah_. Fine." She rolls her eyes for show, then narrows them at her suddenly much perkier wife. "Just don't blame me when all the dogs start howling."

Red makes an offended noise that is more genuine than it is for the sake of obstinance, reminding Regina that she really does believe the words that follow. "Shut up. Your voice is gorgeous, and I'm not the only one who thinks that. Iris has told me more than once she agrees with me about that."

"Iris is merely concerned about her job security, as she should be," Regina points out half-heartedly. Their handmaid is a woman of intelligence who understands one never bites the hand that feeds them. That said, Red is handily winning the argument, although habit dictates Regina never give in easily. "If she were allowed the luxury of honesty, I'm sure her opinion would be very different."

"Oh, stop it," Red says with a dramatic eye roll of her own, clearly getting a little upset. "You're being ridiculous right now. Can't you do this one thing for me without making a frustrating production out of it?"

Regina tuts, then squeezes her arms around Red's waist. "No need to get snippy, even if you're right."

Deflating more quickly than an air bladder just popped, Red sighs wearily. "Sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you."

"It's alright, _mi amada_." Regina rubs Red's arms, accepting the apology. "You're under a lot of stress and reeling from a loss no one could have anticipated. A little moodiness is to be expected."

"Doesn't mean I shouldn't apologize for being an ass."

"Fair enough. In that case, I accept. But only if you accept _my_ apology for being just as much of an ass as you were." That earns Regina a smile, muted as it is.

"I can live with that compromise," Red says.

"Good." A sharp nod precedes clearing her throat and a redirect back on track. "With that settled, do you still want to hear _The Evening Song_?"

Red perks up instantly, eyes dancing with barely restrained excitement as she bounces up and down, her butt slamming into Regina's pelvis like a one hundred fifteen pound bony hammer. "Yes, please, please, please, pretty _pleeeeease_!"

"Alright, calm down before you knock us both off," Regina chuckles at Red's antics, then laughs outright when Red starts wiggling like an unruly worm just to be stubbornly amusing. She tightens her grip in response, wrestling the squirming monster until she is subdued. "Now then," she says when Red goes limp then huffs in mock surrender, "why don't you close your eyes and try to relax. And if you start to fall asleep don't fight it. When I get uncomfortable I'll use magic to get us both in bed. Deal?"

To her credit, Red does not act up again, merely yawns and nods listlessly. "'Kay. Sounds good." Her eyes slip closed for just a second before popping back open, her neck craning to catch Regina's eyes as she calls out her name. When Regina answers, she sweetly adds, "Thank you for doing this. I know it's an imposition, but I really am grateful. And I love you."

That does the trick. Regina melts, her insides turning into so much goo. _The power this woman has over me ought to be illegal._ And yet she loves it far more than it is bothersome.

"You're welcome, sweetheart," she replies from the bottom of her rapidly warming heart. "I love you, too. Go on now and close your eyes. I've got you." To emphasize the point, she snugs up her hold and presses another kiss to Red's temple before resting their cheeks together one last time. Then she starts humming the tune to the requested song and waits for the opportune moment.

When Red finally stills, her breathing settling in a relaxed cadence, Regina takes her cue. With a preparatory breath, she begins to sing the familiar Saxon lyrics she learned just for Red.

" _Der Mond ist aufgegangen,_

 _(_ The moon is risen, beaming, _)_

 _Die goldnen Sternlein prangen_

 _(_ The golden stars are gleaming _)_

 _Am Himmel hell und klar;_

 _(_ So brightly in the skies; _)_

 _Der Wald steht schwarz und schweiget,_

 _(_ The hushed, black woods are dreaming, _)_

 _Und aus den Wiesen steiget_

 _(_ The mists, like phantoms seeming, _)_

 _Der weiße Nebel wunderbar._

 _(_ From meadows magically rise. _)_

 _Wie ist die Welt so stille,_

 _(_ How still the world reposes, _)_

 _Und in der Dämmrung Hülle,_

 _(_ While twilight round it closes, _)_

 _So traulich und so hold!_

 _(_ So peaceful and so fair! _)_

 _Als eine stille Kammer,_

 _(_ A quiet room for sleeping, _)_

 _Wo ihr des Tages Jammer_

 _(_ Into oblivion steeping _)_

 _Verschlafen und vergessen sollt._

(The day's distress and sober care.)"

As the stirring melody drifts through the room, Regina swaying their tangled bodies to the gently flowing rhythm, she feels a sense of serenity wash over her that she was in desperate need of. The horrors of the day fade away with every line of the beautiful lullaby. Robin's twisted, agonized face is no longer visible; the mounds of smoldering corpses and skeletal buildings of Tamerlon disappear into the shadows; and the sorrow she shares with Red over their mutual losses gradually secedes to the realization that they are still together and that tomorrow will bring a new day. No matter what may come, they will face the trials ahead and emerge on the other side stronger for them. Because together they can withstand any assault. Together they can weather any storm. Together they will rise from the molten ashes of grief, a mated pair of phoenixes the fires of pain and death and despair can never destroy.

Swelling with hope, she pours her heart and soul into the song, allowing it to carry her away on the wings of love for the woman in her arms.

 _Seht ihr den Mond dort stehen? –_

(Look at the moon so lonely!)

 _Er ist nur halb zu sehen,_

(One half is shining only)

 _Und ist doch rund und schön!_

(Yet she is round and bright;)

 _So sind wohl manche Sachen,_

(Thus oft we laugh unknowing)

 _Die wir getrost belachen,_

(At things that are not showing,)

 _Weil unsre Augen sie nicht sehn._

(That still are hidden from our sight.)

 _Wir stolze Menschenkinder_

(We, with our proud endeavor,)

 _Sind eitel arme Sünder_

(Are poor vain sinners ever,)

 _Und wissen gar nicht viel;_

(There's little that we know.)

 _Wir spinnen Luftgespinste,_

(Frail cobwebs we are spinning,)

 _Und suchen viele Künste,_

(Our goal we are not winning,)

 _Und kommen weiter von dem Ziel._

(But straying farther as we go.)

 _Götter, lassen uns deine Herrlichkeit sehen_

(Gods let us see thine glory)

 _Auf nichts Vergänglichs trauen,_

(Distrust things transitory,)

 _Nicht Eitelkeit uns freun!_

(Delight in nothing vain!)

 _Herren uns einfältig werden,_

(Lords, here on earth stand by us,)

 _Und vor dir hier auf Erden_

(To make us glad and pious,)

 _Wie Kinder fromm und fröhlich sein._

(And artless children once again!)

 _Wollst endlich sonder Grämen_

(Grant that, without much grieving,)

 _Aus dieser Welt uns nehmen_

(This world we may be leaving )

 _Durch einen sanften Tod!_

(In gentle death at last.)

 _Und, wenn du uns genommen,_

(And then do not forsake us)

 _Lass uns in Himmel kommen,_

(But into heaven take us,)

 _Oh Götter, bitte halte uns fest!_

(O Gods, please hold us fast!)

 _So legt euch denn, ihr Brüder,_

(So lie down, my friends,) _  
_im Vertrauen hier auf der Erde

(In trust down here on Earth.)

 _Kalt ist der Abendhauch._

(How cold the night-wind blew!)

 _Verschon uns, Gottes! Mit Strafen,_

(Oh Gods, Thine anger keeping,)

 _Und lass uns ruhig schlafen!_

(Now grant us peaceful sleeping,)

 _Und unsern kranken Nachbarn auch!_ "

(And our sick neighbor too.)

When the last words have passed through her lips, Regina pulls back enough to chance a glance at Red. Dead still, breathing even, eyelids closed yet relaxed, lips slightly parted, she appears more a slumbering deity than a sleeping woman, like an Olympian wreathed in flesh, Artemis fair and lithe and powerful become mortal just so Regina can know the incomparable gift of her love and be given the extraordinary privilege of returning it. And that she does with an intensity that burns brighter than a thousand furnaces heated to seven times capacity until the end of time.

Nothing will ever change the way she feels about Red. There is no erasing or interrupting or dimming a love so great there are moments she can hardly contain it within her body due to the intense pressure, as if her chest is so full of love that it is going to rupture at any moment and spill out of her along with the rest of her vital organs. Nor is there any force on earth capable of sundering them forever. They are of one heart and soul, _geistgebunden_ , as the elders of Red's people say. Soul bound. Even death will be only a temporary parting for them. Eternity is where their love will live on when this mortal coil has faded from view, and there it shall thrive in youthful vitality forevermore.

Unwilling to move or let go of Red for even one second, Regina tightens her arms around her sleeping wife, readjusts her shoulders, and settles in. Soon, her eyes also begin to grow so heavy she can no longer hold them open, as if her lids have been touched by some mercury-infused Midas. Her last thought is that if the woman who mercilessly killed Robin had a Red in her life, perhaps none of this would be happening.

* * *

The sky above Misthaven is a startling blue on the day Robin of Locksley is buried. A week and two days have come and gone since his death and with it news of Tamerlon's destruction. The blanket of sadness that rolled over the citadel as news of these events circulated has yet to dissipate. To Regina the gorgeous weather seems especially cruel in light of the bleakness that has rested over those who knew and loved Robin like a misty cloud comprised of a sticky uncertainty and a guttural anguish. It feels almost purposeful, as if nature is conspiring with their enemy to mock the grief of so many.

A sizable crowd has gathered in the courtyard before the Dark Palace for the dolorous event. Robin was almost universally admired. He was a man's man who was not above being sensitive when called for, ruggedly handsome whose enormous smile matched his generosity and amiability with kind eyes and the ferocious heart of a lion. Children flocked to him for rides upon his broad shoulders. Women, and a number of men, married and single alike swooned when he passed by them. The soldiers he lead into battle nearly worshiped him as much for his fair and considerate treatment of them as for the unerring sense of discipline he instilled within each and every one of them, all of whom he knew by name as did he the names of their spouses and children.

As to be expected, the people closest to him were the hardest hit by his sudden passing. His Merry Men left all they had ever known to follow him with blind trust into Misthaven after the Sheriff of Nottingham finally rooted them out of Sherwood Forest. That they were offered sanctuary in Misthaven would not have mattered if Robin had been in the mood to decline; it was only because he accepted that so too did they. He was more than just a leader to them but a friend and a brother who was as happy to shed his blood for them as he was to make merry amongst them. Now what once was a rowdy bunch of hard-nosed fighters, passionate lovers, and shameless revelers have been reduced to a lethargic group of discordant, drifting compatriots at the brink of utter fragmentation. Whether they survive this tragedy intact or splinter to the four winds remains to be seen. Robin was the glue that held their disparate and often at-odds personalities together; without him Regina cannot image the band surviving in any recognizable form. That said, there is no doubt in her mind that Little John will stay close to Marian and Roland, which means he is unlikely to leave any time soon since Marian has already expressed to Regina and Red her intent to stay in Misthaven rather than return to Tamerlon where the made their home while Robin was in command of the garrison there – ' _Roland was born here in the citadel,_ ' she had told them, ' _it is his home, so it is mine also, therefore we shall stay_.' John was set to fetch the Locksley's belongings from Tamerlon a fortnight from now. Of all the Merry Men, it is Will Scarlett, Robin's half-sibling, who is least likely to remain, his heart already being split between family and love. He stayed only out of loyalty to and affection for his older brother, but now Regina wonders whether or not he will soon disappear in search of his beloved, the long lost Red Queen Anastasia.

The many other friends Robin made during his years in Misthaven, such as Red and Victor, are faring somewhat better, though all are visibly submersed within one of the various stages of grief. In all things, Red wears her emotions on her sleeve, and wraps her grief about her like a terribly depressing shawl. She cries often and otherwise constantly appears on the verge of weeping yet again, as if inside her lies an infinite sea of tears. Regina comforts her wife as best she can, though her efforts produce only meager results. Red's normally buoyant demeanor remains subdued and her rare, hesitant smiles never come close to reaching her eyes. Meanwhile Victor is typically stoic, though when Regina glances at him there is a glimmer in his eyes that suspiciously resembles tears, which is surprising – Victor is not one to let people close. It was no small feat that Robin managed to get past the iron door erected around Doctor Frankenstein's coldly rational heart. But that's just how Robin was, every bit as stealthy with his friendship as he was in the woods, able to sneak up on a person without them hearing a sound before springing the trap, and suddenly he was there inside the walls, close to the heart, a friend whose humor, loyalty, and affection can only truly appreciated now that he's gone. Regina knows this because he snuck up on her the exact same way. Red, however, was a different story. With Red, Robin was the one who got ambushed. Turns out he'd never been drunk under the table by a girl before, or beaten fair and square at an archery contest, or lost five times in a row at a high-stakes version of hide-and-go-seek in Sherwood Forest of all places. Most men would have hated Red for showing them up that way, but not Robin. To Robin, she was to be toasted and given a rousing welcome to his happy band of misfits, the first Merry Woman amongst the Merry Men. One other female would follow in Red's footsteps to join Robin's informal crew, which turns Regina's mind to those absent due to prior engagements or the inescapable call of duty.

As the final well wishers and payers of respect filter by the stately coffin she paid for out of the Crown's coffers, she wonders how Graham and Mulan will take the news. Other than Red they were the closest to Robin outside of his family and the founding members of his Merry Men.

Speaking of Robin's family, Marian is doing her best to stay strong for little Roland, who vacillates wildly between inconsolable confusion over his Papa's disappearance, awful realization that Papa will stay gone forever, and that enviable childlike tendency to let such burdensome emotional tolls slide off their shoulders as if the loss is a mere inconvenience. He is only six years old. Far too young to be burying a parent. It pains Regina more than she can express to see him struggling so tremendously. His dimpled smile is one of her very favorites, and few other children enjoy the rare privileges within the Citadel he does simply because both of his Queens are wrapped around his little pinky finger. She makes a mental note to keep a close eye on the lad for the foreseeable future, as well as on his brave-faced mother, who is barely holding on to her composure as the bald, pudgy, lush of a friar affectionately called Tuck begins to officiate the solemn ceremony.

Marian is, without a doubt, one of the strongest women Regina has ever met. There is nothing at all about the woman she does not like or at the very least respect. While she and Marian were never as close as she was with Robin, they have enough common interests to have formed a solid camaraderie, not the least of which was their shared love of spouses who would just as soon be traipsing through in the woods on a month long camping trip, and that for _leisure_ , as to enjoy their evenings in a house with all the furnishings one could ever wish for. Even if Regina had hated Marian, she would not envy what the woman is going to have to endure over the next several days, weeks, and months. Being a young widow in a world like theirs is a precarious situation, even for those with support systems as wide and deep as Marian's. Many reprobates and schemers lacking even a modicum of compassion or a miniscule regard for social decorum will try to take advantage of her grief. No doubt a line of heartless scoundrels a mile long will be vying to replace her dead husband in her bed within the week's end. Marian's financial stability has been shaken to the core, for while she is an industrious woman who is now sole owner and operator of one of the three taverns within the citadel, an establishment Little John has been tending since the family moved to Tamerlon due to Robin's assignment, the loss of Robin's sizable income from the army will mean she will need to make some difficult decisions – and very soon if they were beholden to any debtors. There is every possibility that barring intervention she will have to move out of their modest home near the inner ring of the citadel and into one of the rooms above the tavern's beer hall, all of which are inadequate for the mother of a rambunctious, adventurous, and impressionable little boy. An establishment where people are routinely getting insensibly inebriated and randomly break out into fisticuffs is no place to be raising any child.

 _Perhaps she will accept some aid from Red and I,_ Regina thinks. _That is,_ _if she can stow her pride long enough to see the logic in accepting it. And there isn't much chance of that._

However much Regina wants to force Marian to take the help she and Red can more than afford to give, she knows better than to try. Especially since that would make her a hypocrite. If she were in Marian's shoes, there is no way she would accept a handout. She would rather scrape by, starving so long as her baby was fed and his needs met, than to extend her hand palm up to take the monetary pity being offered by some condescending aristocrat. Pride has ever been her crowning character deficit, and it is one she has in common with Marian. Nevertheless, she determines to find a way to help the family currently under so much undue duress, even if she has to resort to underhanded tricks to do so.

 _Maybe a convenient tax refund? Or a heretofore undiscovered relative dying who bequeathed her a sizable inheritance?_ Regina shakes her head, clearing away her potential machinations as Tuck delves into what a good father and husband Robin was. The impassioned speech evokes the first visible cracks in Marian's previously resilient composure. _There will be time to scheme later when a heartbroken wife isn't saying goodbye to her beloved husband._ So for now, Regina focuses all of her attention upon paying respects as much to her fallen friend as to the family he left behind.

When the service is over and Robin's coffin is being carted away to his final resting place within the military sector of the Royal cemetery, Regina joins Red, both clad in black as the rest of the mourners, in escorting Marian and Roland along behind the ornate horse-drawn bier. At Regina and Red's insistence, the grief-stricken family are allowed for this somber affair the distinction, though they probably do not see it as such, of walking between the royal couple. The wide cobbled road exiting the courtyard cuts a lazily curved path through the rest of the citadel, the side streets and pavements are all lined with citizens standing outside their shopfronts or observing the passage of the procession with friends and family, all with straight backs and dour faces. Robin was not just a husband, father, friend, and beloved commander, but a hero to the people. His reputation cultivated during his days as an outlaw elevated him to somewhat mythical stature amongst Misthaven's common folk. Robin Hood, as they call him even here, will be sorely missed as one of the most outspoken champions of the disenfranchised.

Holding Roland's hand, who clings to his mother's, who is in turn clutching Red's with a white-knuckled grip, Regina strolls with a dignified pace several yards abaft of the honor carriage bearing Robin's body beneath the colors of his house. The golden lion atop an olive green background was restored to him along with his title by edict of the Queens, an order no one, however adamantly opposed, was prepared to rebel against. Behind them an impressive stream of mourners stretches beyond the curve of the main thoroughfare, a sea of people whose hearts have been stirred and whose wrath has been kindled against the enemy who so callously deprived the nation of one her very best. The witch has made more than one enemy by this deplorable act, and scores more by the destruction of the garrison at Tamerlon. There will be a reckoning, only the when, the where, and the how have yet to be decided.

At the thought of the heartless wench that has been wreaking havoc upon two realms, Regina's heart swells with defiant, acridly bitter loathing. The more she dwells on what has happened, the loftier her hatred grows until she is gritting her teeth against the urge to kill something or someone, anyone really, who has committed an evil worthy of death. How easy it would be, and how fun, to visit the dungeons afterward and carve out her acrimony upon some wretchedly filthy criminal, preferably a rapist or a murderer, to flay them head to toe and bathe in the glorious noises of flesh being shaved away from muscle and the screams of agony erupting from her hapless victims. Perhaps after she has accrued a pungent coating of blood she will feel more composed and less likely to allow the inner beast, now ranting and raving from the dark fringes of her psyche, to slip her suddenly rusty leash.

The dark turn of mood only breaks when Roland fortuitously peers up at her and sniffles loudly. His precious little face is streaked with tears, eyes enormous pools of despair, chin quivering, lips trembling, clearly on the verge of a hysterical, infantile fit of misery. With great effort, she stamps down violently upon her clamoring rage, cowing it and stuffing it back into the warped black box whose surface weeps liquid animus, the malevolent throne room wherein the Evil Queen rules upon a dais of wicked thorns and gaudy spikes of bloody iron. The door barring entrance to that place devoid of all warmth and light and goodness can never be opened again.

Taking a deep breath to master herself, she meets the young boy's eyes straight on. "Courage, Roland," she says, commending herself internally for this latest victory against her murderous, tyrannical, megalomaniac of an alter ego. Roland holds her gaze with a maturity that inconsistent with his age. "We must give your father the honor he has earned," she goes on, "and show him the respect he deserves. He was a hero and must be treated as such if we are to remain a civilized people. Later, there will be plenty of time to scream out our anguish and frustration to the seemingly disinterested heavens. Later, we can stop pretending we're not about to crumble into a million pieces. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

"Yes, ma – ma'am. I t-think so," he says, hiccuping around the words.

Not wanting to be overly harsh, she gives his hand a reassuring squeeze. "Good boy. When you are a man in your own right, you will look back on this day and be proud of how you conducted yourself in honoring your father. But for now, I can promise you that it won't hurt like this forever."

His eyes widen as if he has heard something astonishing. "You lost your Papa, t-too?"

"No. My mother," she says with practiced patience. Roland knows very well that her father is alive, having just went fishing with him little more than a moon ago. The poor thing is simply too discombobulated by emotional turmoil to recall that right now. Their arms swinging lightly between them, Regina offers him a soft smile meant to encourage rather than belittle. "Though she was not half so good a parent as your Papa, I loved her." She pauses then, brows furrowing before she continues, "My heart was sad for a very long time after she died. I missed her every single day. I wished I could talk to her again, tell her I loved her one more time, but I couldn't. All I could do was remember the good times," and there were good times, just not very many, though she does not mention that to Roland, "and try to remind myself that she did the best she could." Glancing down at the precocious little boy, she tries to impart any measure of comfort she can to him, even if it proves insignificant in the grand scheme of things. "You must do the same whenever possible. Try as best you can to remember the good times when the pain gets so bad you can't stand it anymore. Try to focus on how much your Papa loved you – and he did so very much, so more than you will ever know! Don't ever forget the things your Papa taught you. Hold on to them like they're gold. No, like they're more than gold, because there is no value that can be put on those things. And promise me that if you need me, at any time day or night, you will come to me. My door will always be open for you, Lord Roland of Locksley, and not only for your father's sake. I care deeply about you and that will not change just because this bad thing happened."

For a moment, Roland just stares up at her in awe, his tears ceased, now merely dried tracks on ruddy cheeks. There is a rapidly renewing strength in his eyes, an unquenchable fire of hope that reminds Regina so much of his father that she wants to cry, partially for sorrow but mostly for joy. Robin has not been wholly taken from them after all. Some portion of him remains in the person of his son, who Regina can already tell will grow up to be a young man of such indomitable character as to make his father beam with a pride that cannot be put into words.

"I promise. Thank you, my Queen," Roland says after a bit, blushing at having broken etiquette so badly. It is unbecoming for anyone to stare so long at a Queen without expressed invitation.

"You are most welcome, my sweet boy," Regina replies, giving his hand another squeeze as they share a smile that bodes well for the future.

Somehow, that impromptu little speech breaks the pall hanging over the day. When she looks up, Red and Marian are staring at her much like Roland was, though for differing reasons – Marian out of gratitude and Red out of that infinite fountain of love that flows from deep within her soul. The rest of the journey to the cemetery is accomplished in silence, though there is no more sniffling to be heard amongst the crowd. Marian and Roland's spirits unfurl like a banner held up into a brisk breeze, and the effect is contagious, passing from row to row, column to column, until the entire procession is a line of valiant faces are ready to pay tribute to the man whose acts of kindness and compassion have unified them all toward that one noble purpose.

The remaining portion of the ceremony at the graveside, while melancholy, is underpinned by that same surge of positive energy. In unison, they bask in the remembrance of man who would want his life to be celebrated with foaming ale and boisterous laughter, not mourned with endless tears. A man who would wish those he loved to testify to the indelible impact his life made by doing as he did: living life to the fullest, not taking a moment for granted, smiling and laughing whenever possible, and by surrounding themselves with family and friends and love – whose combined warmth can ward off the most unforgiving winter chill. So that is what they do. By unspoken agreement, not a single tear is shed save for the joyous ones that spring up while sharing stories about Robin and his many amazing adventures.

When all is said and done and Robin has at last been laid to rest, Regina and Red stay with Marian and Roland until they retire to their home with the Merry Men to feast and get rip roaring drunk in Robin's memory. Sadly, with many duties ahead on the morrow, Regina and Red must return to the palace, but not before wresting an oath from a reluctant Marian to come at once if she has any need of them whatsoever.

The next several hours are spent attending to duties that were neglected in lieu of the funeral. Regina spends several interminable hours nose deep in a quarterly report regarding the citadel's emergency supplies and once finished with that breaks open the seal of Mulan's first report from the border with Drakkenhall. The General's succinct information does nothing to improve her mood, which has waned precipitously since parting from Marian and Roland, and Red, who had kissed her farewell upon arriving at the palace so she could oversee repairs to a breach in the western wall incurred by runoff water erosion of the foundations. According to Mulan, the situation in Drakkenhall is more dire than previously suggested. Two more villages have been torched right on the other side of the border, making it clear to Regina that the witch is moving freely between the realms with zero regard for the danger such bold maneuvering poses. Only a deranged individual would do such a thing, or one absolutely confident they will not be stopped, even by force. Neither option is agreeable to Regina.

Only long after the sun has dipped down below the rim of the world is she finally free to retire from her duties. Expecting to be greeted by Red, she instead finds their chambers unoccupied. Worry niggles at the back of her brain for a while, though she dismisses it knowing Red's attention is probably still being hogged by a very serious issue. The western wall is the one most vulnerable to siege and therefore repairs must be completely not only swiftly but precisely and utilizing only the best materials and workers available. Work is ongoing around the clock, and up til now neither of them have had time to make a personal inspection. Red is no structural engineer, but she has a keener eye for detail than any human and has an eerie knack for spotting weaknesses in defenses, an ability that served her – and Snow – well while she was not in Regina's good graces. Which is why she was sent in Regina's place.

 _Surely_ , Regina reasons with herself, _she is simply caught up in ensuring the work is being done correctly. That or she's pitched in herself, which isn't out of the question_. It is the strangest thing how Red sometimes bemoans the lack of manual labor she gets to do since being crowned, as if she almost longs for days of an endless string of backbreaking tasks her grandmother used to assign her.

Knowing Red is likely to be late if that is the case, Regina changes into a light satin dress, ties a warm robe around it, and then settles beneath the bay window to read the book Red lent her a couple days before. She picks up where she left off in the oddly rousing and romantic tale of a snooty noblewoman who was abducted on her wedding day by a roguish do-gooder who plans to ransom her back to her husband-to-be for enough coin to feed the small community inhabited by fellow outcasts and tenderhearted miscreants. Lo and behold, the woman finds out her captor is not a man but a woman who was orphaned young, grew up poor and fell in love only to lose her lover to the violent tendencies of the husband-to-be, who it is revealed is the evil minion of an oppressive ruler whose excesses have nearly bankrupt the realm. The tale is rather trite and full of mawkish sentimentality, but there are elements that ring true and are familiar enough to make the yarn mostly enjoyable. Especially how the obtuse noblewoman slowly becomes aware of the suffering of the common people around her as she falls in love with a woman who is as afraid of loving the noblewoman back as she is angry at the world for the innumerable tragedies that have befallen her.

She is just about to the part she has been anticipating for several chapters now, where the hopelessly in love women in pointless denial are about to kiss for the first time, when Red finally slogs through the door. Coated from head to toe in a thick layer of sweat and grime, her wife is the picture of happy bone-deep fatigue. Regina sighs affectionately at Red, who shrugs and gives her a sheepish smile.

"I couldn't just stand there and watch them work," she says, and wisely does not protest when Regina promptly orders her to the shower posthaste, her nose wrinkling at the smells wafting from Red's direction.

About half an hour later, Red pads back out of the bathroom wrapped in a downy robe with her hair tied up in a fluffy towel. She ambles straight over to the bay window and sits down next to Regina, then wordlessly takes her left hand between both of her own. Idly, deep in thought, she rubs at Regina's wedding band, eyes cast down toward her lap. When she lifts them a minute or so later, there is more than just exhaustion there.

"I can't believe he's actually gone," she says, eyelids lined with the shimmering silver of tears she refuses to let fall.

"Me either," Regina says after a deep exhale. It seems surreal that one week and three days ago Robin was laughing with them about Roland's latest stunt climbing trees while chasing after the elusive – and hideously ugly – black cat the Merry Men dubbed Prince John. Now he's nothing but a cold husk, his soul having departed for lands unknown, rotting beneath six feet of earth that now seals him away from the open skies and thick grass and tall trees he so loved. "It's going to take time to get over it. For all of us. He left a gaping hole behind."

"Yeah." Red glances up at her, pensive. "I'm worried about Marian, too. Roland is tough and young, so he'll adapt. But she's just so, so sad. And vulnerable."

Regina nods in agreement. "I know. I've already had a talk with Little John. He's going to keep an eye on her. Chase off any potential unwanted suitors. Protect her interests at the tavern. Babysit whenever he can. I told him we would help however we could."

"Thanks." Red squeezes Regina's hand between her long, elegant fingers. "That was nice."

Regina shrugs as if the praise was unwarranted, which it is. Common decency needs no reward in her estimation.

"She would do the same for me were our roles reversed."

"Still," Red says, cracking a soft smile, "you didn't have to offer. I'm sure if the nobles found out they would criticize you for making yourself accessible to those, and I quote, _beneath the charity of the Crown_."

Most of the nobles never accepted their decision to restore Robin's title and grant him an estate in addition to his holdings within the citadel. They still hold a grudge to this day for his activities in Sherwood, some of them having been his beleaguered victims. Marian originating from humble farming stock did not aid their opinion of the Locksley's, nor did her skin color. _Racists and elitists, the lot of them._

"Fuck them," Regina growls, then winces when Red's brow arches. "Pardon my language, but I really don't care what those arrogant bigots think. Marian is a friend. I'll do what I can to help her. If they object, well, then they can kiss my royal ass."

Grinning, Red bumps her shoulder and gives her a wink. "They can kiss your ring maybe. Nobody gets to kiss your tushy but me."

Feeling grateful for the reprieve from the gloomy direction of the conversation, Regina chuckles and returns the shoulder bump with one of her own. "Touché. And you're so good at it. A professional ass kisser if ever there was one."

After a mock bow, which is awkward due to her sitting down, Red chirps, "Happy to be of service at any time, milady."

Eyes catching, they both allow a quiet moment of good humor and mutual adoration to descend over them, enveloping them with the familiar incandescent glow of their love. As with all good things, however, it comes to an end when Red clears her throat.

"So," she says, fiddling with Regina's wedding ring again, a sign of nervousness if ever there was one, "any ideas how to deal with the person responsible for all of this death and destruction? I'd like to be able to tell Marian and Roland and all of those poor families in Tamerlon that we got them some much deserved justice."

Eyes sliding shut, Regina shakes her head and breathes out through her nostrils. "Sadly there isn't much we can do. I have Mulan at the border. Chances are she'll encounter the witch before anyone else. If so, I've no doubt she'll put an end to this with her typical efficiency. That said, I have a feeling in my gut that things are going to get worse before they get better."

"What do you mean?" Red asks, not bothering to hide her rising fear.

"I can't explain it aside from saying that this woman, whoever she is, is not a threat to be taken lightly. She is smart, she is ruthless, and she is _powerful_. If it weren't for the fact I hate her, I'd admire her. In fact, her tactics remind me a great deal of how I used operate in the Dark Days."

A shiver works through Red's slim frame. "That bad, huh?"

"I'm afraid so." Drawing her strength, Regina pats Red's hand reassuringly. "Don't worry, though, _mi luna y estrellas_ , _mein Herz und meine Seele._ No matter what happens, no matter what that egotistical, pompous, brain-addled bitch has planned, I will protect you. I swear it. If I have to stand between you and all of the legions of hell, I _will_ protect you."

"Oh, Regina, you don't understand," Red whispers, a solitary tear finally breaking free. It tracks a sinuous path down her cheek only to drip mournfully upon their joined hands. "I heard what she said through Robin that day. I know what she wants. And I know who she's really after. I love you for wanting to keep me safe, but it's not me I'm afraid for. It's you."

If only Regina had known then what she would in the near future, she would refused to allow those words to dissuade her from enacting the outrageous security measures she had been planning to institute around Red twenty-four hours a day. If only she had listened to her gut and let her paranoia do the work it was designed for, namely to safeguard the most important thing in all the world to her. If only she had not let Red's sweet kisses and tender caresses distract her from her most important job as a wife. If only she hadn't been such a damned fool.

If only...

* * *

 **A/N:** So, in case anyone wonders where the hell the German came from, a lot of the fairy tales are largely based on Grimm Brothers material. Of course there are other nationalities represented as well. So I visualize Snow White's realm, along with George and Stefan's, as being Germanic. There's an author I've read whose fantasy novels don't bother inventing new terms for modern ideas, as he says that's a waste of cognitive focus, so he just goes with what the reader is familiar with to describe stuff that would have some foreign designation if he were being literal in his descriptions. I dig that approach a lot. So why invent some language for the Enchanted Forest or have some magical explanation that they just all speak the same one or all speak English or whatever the hell explanation one wants to go with. Since I visualize the realm Regina now rules as Germanic, their native tongue sounds like German. Anyway, that's a long-winded explanation that might not have been necessary...

Also, the lullaby can be Youtubed, type in Der Mond ist aufgegangen, first link is the one I listened to.

 **Translations** (Thank you Google Translate!)

 _Das Abendlied –_ the Evening Song

 _mi amada_ – my darling

 _mi luna y estrellas –_ My moon and stars

 _mein Herz und meine Seele –_ My heart and soul


	9. A Bitter Draught

**A/N:** I added this chapter the day before yesterday to fill in some more gaps and provide some more relationship foundation for RedQueen. I promise, though, the narrative really is about to kick off. Some of the lines in this chapter might seem inconsequential, but they aren't. **  
**

**Standard Disclaimer** : These lovely characters ain't mine, I just play with them gently. Please don't sue me. The mistakes are mine, though.

* * *

 **Chapter 8** – A Bitter Draught

An uneventful month meanders by after the destruction of the garrison at the border. In the interim, Regina has spent her nights much the same way. Tonight no exception is made to the routine that has played an integral role in maintaining an even keel through the undulating seas portentous of a tempest about to blow in from the southeast.

The entire morning was spent embroiled in mostly monotonous meetings, one after another spanning a broad assortment of topics ranging from lumber industrialists bitching about deforestation protocols to a presentation chock full of charts, graphs, and illustrations given by an appallingly boring magistrate from the southerly regions regarding the 'dire threat' posed to her local waterways by wildlife run amok. Apparently overzealous beavers and moles alongside unusual upsurges in foxes, deer, and other agricultural and animal husbandry endangering critters pose as severe a threat as a witch hellbent on the kingdom's destruction – an elucidation for which Regina was ever-so-thankful. The highlight of the morning, and the entire day really, was a girl's chorus from the vicinity of Perrault who visited just before midday to finalize booking them for a gala to be thrown in Red's honor. Regina was so besotted with their cherubic enthusiasm for celebrating the upcoming birthday of the Queen they all adored that she allowed them to lunch with her.

Unfortunately, the proceeding afternoon and evening hours sapped all of the positive energy of that delightful hour. Drafting budget proposals for the council to review was not her idea of fun, nor was reviewing the repairs to the western wall nearing completion after a series of delays. All the same, those things had to be done lest the nobles had cause to question her commitment to the kingdom's financial health and the citadel's security. So after seeing the girl's chorus off, she sequestered in her office, hunkered down and scribbled figures until the wrist and fingers of her right hand ached. Several hours later, she emerged only to spend the next two meticulously inspecting stonework and newly dug rainwater management culverts in the midst of an autumn chill rolling through the area.

By the time Regina trudges up the corridor to her bedchambers, she is weary to the marrow of her bones. Pausing at the door, she fondly recalls how Red had returned from a similar visit to the western wall the month before. Coated in sweat and mud, Red had stank something awful but was nonetheless the picture of simple satisfaction at having broken Queenly protocol to help the workers haul rocks, mix mortar, dig trenches, and pour concrete to fill said ditches so that the new section of the wall had stable foundations. Regina's nose turns up at the memory of the smell wafting from her filthy wife, but then she melts at Red's happy smile at having exhausted herself in hard, honest work that paid objective dividends she has personally witnessed. The wall is now twice as strong as it was before repairs were undertaken. Several times during her review, she was approached by workers and offered thanks for Red's unnecessary but greatly appreciated aid.

 _I'm just glad it was her that pitched in with the grunt work and not me_ , Regina thinks, smirking down at her pristine clothing. _If Red wants to break her back getting down in the mud with what she insists will always be her sort of folk, she can have at it. As for me, I'll be staying clean and dry. Like mother said, 'That is what servants are for, Regina, and we pay them well enough for their labor. Your job is to ensure that labor is not done in vain.' She wasn't right about a lot, but that's one point I'll agree with her on._

There is a part of Regina that cringes at how snobbish that sounds. Fortunately for her, it is not big enough to make any notable impact upon her conscience. The last time she let the stark disparity between the haves and have-nots bother her, she was a young and criminally naive fool who believed in concepts that will never harmonize with reality – such as the idiotic assumptions that love will always triumph over hate and good over evil. Daniel's death was a slap to the face curing her of those delusions, one that she has yet to recover from and probably never will when five years of marriage to a hopeless romantic has only made a tiny dent in her condescending streak. Besides, if Red can put up with her occasionally sneering down her nose at the common man, why should she be bothered to change any more than she already has? And it isn't as if she is the same callous tyrant who constantly abused the impoverished lower classes during the Dark Days.

Since she fell in love with Red and that hopeless idealism her mother tried to destroy flickered back to life into a quaint but undeniably extant ember, the plight of the rank and file has conclusively improved. There is still destitution, yes, as there always will be in a world as cruel as theirs. But there has been steady upward progress. Salaries of workers all over the citadel, and indeed all over the country, have reached record highs under her audacious agenda to redistribute some of the gross wealth being hoarded by the nobility. The program has not boosted her popularity among the effected noble houses, although even the hardest hit among those most wealthy individuals cannot argue with the wholesale economic benefits produced by a proletariat that is increasingly awash with disposable income. Merchants are especially reaping the harvest of this marked upturn in consumerism, and their nearly universal support of her measures has offset any intransigent defiance from the excessively privileged aristocracy.

So no, Regina does not feel bad for still being a bit of an arrogant, pompous, egotistical asshole. And why should she when Red admittedly finds that side of her...oddly arousing? The answer to that question is self-evident.

As Regina loiters outside in the hallway, the manifesting temptation to provoke Red's attraction to her nasty side is quite potent. Yet as enjoyable as the lengthy, highly energetic romps with her wife invariably are, she is not really in the mood tonight. Unusual as that is, all she wants is to settle in for a relaxing evening in the company of her favorite person in the universe. Red's consistently reliable warmth and devotion is more than enough to take her mind off of the sinister looking storm clouds always a nagging pace ahead of her stride. Storm clouds that thunder the ominous promises of the witch that murdered Robin in front of the whole court and wiped the garrison at Tamerlon off the map.

Prior to entering the chambers, she preemptively sets a number of wards over their door to match those she applies to her wife's person each morning since that terrible day they watched helplessly as one of their dearest friends died. She cannot be too careful since the witch threatening her life also made that lewd comment about Red. Expressing an intent to kill her is one thing, but implying untoward intentions toward her wife is another altogether. So Regina ignores Red's limited amount of snarky griping about her paranoia as she carefully applies the wards, and does not feel a bit bad about doing so. There is no length to which she is unwilling to go to prevent such an indignity being visited upon the only person she has ever known who deserves to live a free, peaceful, and happy life.

Thus far there have been no assassination attempts, much to Regina's equal relief and consternation, which is why she has not immediately recalled Mulan from her task shoring up the southern border with Drakkenhall. It also comes as no great shock since there have been no further sightings of the witch, though she wishes that were not the case. Were there actionable intelligence, she could be out there _doing something_ about the threat. As is, her frustration only grows with each passing day and it feels more and more like the introductory theatrics at the garrison and with Robin were a pot of water hung over a lit fire. Now whatever malefic brew is being prepared has been left to simmer, and once heated to a rolling boil, the concoction will be poured out, no doubt inciting mayhem within the kingdom. To Regina, the waiting is far less preferable to the attack sure to unfold any day now. At least in open conflict she can retaliate. Right now all she's done is sit on her ass, hands tied behind her back, powerless to strike out at an enemy who has yet to reveal herself save through veiled taunts. Psychological warfare is being conducted, and having it waged upon a person of action such as herself is beyond aggravating.

The only comfort through the interminable period of peace before the storm is her nightly ritual with Red. Relaxing together before bed, sipping the finest vintage, and talking about their days helps to unwind the massive knot of frustration that is her entire body and mind of late. Somehow, Red is able to stay calm whereas Regina's self-control is fraying at the edges, and when they are together that inner serenity soothes her irritated nerves as if seeping in via emotional osmosis. After the destruction of the garrison and Robin's death, she's been constantly itching for a fight that refuses to present itself. Red, though, is eerily composed, able to go about her daily business without thoughts of their close friend's abrupt demise hindering or entirely paralyzing her. Whether she's just being brave for Regina's sake or has simply stowed away her grief until the current crisis is over remains uncertain. Regina is too selfish to ask which is the case. Right now she needs her wife's unshakable devotion, quiet strength, easy-going companionship, tender reassurance, and dependable affection – perhaps more so than she ever has.

"Hey, hon! You look beat," Red greets upon Regina's entry.

"I am," Regina says. "It was a long day."

Approaching from where she was perched at their vanity, reading the latest in a long line of epic romances gifted to her by Belle, Red offers Regina a compassionate smile. "I heard. Lots of meetings, huh? And drafting the yearly budget proposal on top of that. I don't envy you."

Regina hums her acknowledgement. Red had spend her day in the town that sprung up beneath the looming shadow of the castle almost immediately after construction was completed some two centuries ago. Referred to now as Eisentor as much due to the easily defensible layout teeming with choke points around the base of the mountain as to the massive steel-reinforced gates, manned around the clock, that bar entrance to the sinuous access road carving a path up to the precipice upon which the Dark Palace sits. In Eisentor, Red is a regarded as somewhat of a fixture, as she can be found there as oft as permitted by the many duties incumbent upon a sovereign.

Today Red paid a visit to the bakery Regina once spied upon and learned of the shifting opinion of her people regarding her rule. Red does not say anything to indicate where she went, nor does she need to; Regina can see the burn marks on her fingers and forearms from greedily plucking hot pastries out of the oven because she was too impatient to wait for them to be safely removed. Ennis and Hanna, the baker and his wife, permit Red to have her run of the place. The indulgence isn't surprising since Red is their Queen, although Regina does not think that factors into their overly kind allowance. Red has a way with people that disarms them almost instantly then has them reduced to so much putty in her palm within a few more minutes. The proprietors of the bakery, all four of them, did not last even that long before they were not only letting Red have her pick of the fresh-out-of-the-oven goodies but were letting her design – and hand-make! – her own confections. The first time that happened Red came back home with flour on her face and dough on her dress, which was a costly garment to have produced. Fortunately for her, the gingersnaps dipped in white chocolate she had baked were delicious. Had Regina known Red had a talent for baking she might not have resisted bedding her quite so long as she did.

In any case, Red's day was far less strenuous than Regina's, thus the reason for her being extra sympathetic. Which she most certainly ought to be as she probably had Ennis and Hanna's absurdly attractive children pawing all over her while she was flitting about their establishment like a butterfly perfectly at home in an environment that decorum would expect her to avoid appearing too comfortable in.

"As well you shouldn't. How are Rina and Alfred, by the way?" Regina asks, unable to keep the venom out of her question. She is still uncomfortable with how much time those two funny and kind, extremely gorgeous, and very single siblings spend around Red.

"Doing good," Red says, smile shifting with longsuffering affection for Regina's irrepressible jealous streak where those two are concerned. "You don't have to keep saying their names like a dirty word, _by the way_. They're just friends who know I don't have eyes for anybody but you."

"Maybe so, but I'd still feel better if they both got married already," Regina grouses, mood souring further when Red chuckles at her discomfort. "Yuck it up, buttercup. Mock my concerns. But answer me this, what are two highly attractive and eligible individuals like them doing unmarried in their mid-twenties? Huh?"

"Waiting for the right person just like I did," Red calmly answers, ever the diplomat. "The see what I have and want it for themselves. And you know what? I don't blame them one tiny iota. Everyone should be as lucky as me to have found somebody like you."

Eyes dancing, Red sidles over to Regina and pulls her into an embrace without permission. To Regina's frustration, she allows the uninvited move, even appreciates the motive behind it and the comfort it gives her. Ten years ago, she would have incinerated anyone who dared such boldness. Instead she melts into the embrace and accepts the kiss pressed gently to her lips.

 _You've turned into a pathetic sap, Regina. But who can blame me? These arms are the safest, most loving place in the world. And those kisses are worth all the gold in the kingdom. I may be a sap but at least I'm a happy one._

A chuckle reverberates through Red's chest as Regina loops her arms behind Red, hands joined at the small of her back. "You've been jealous of Rin and Alfie for years for absolutely no good reason. How many times do I have to remind you that neither of them are interested that way in girls?"

Regina pulls away, brows arched. "I thought the same once. Before Leopold's death, I held to my mother's puritanical view of same sex attraction. And then I..." she trails off before mentioning her introduction to Maleficent, not wanting to put Red in a bad mood as well.

Red does not care very much for Mal. Never has really since their introduction almost seven years ago. She insists it is because of the ancient hatred her kind harbors for the race of dragons. One of few historical contributions Anita made to her daughter's thirst for knowledge about her roots was an oral tradition passed down for untold generations which holds that the dragons created werewolves and then enslaved them as a labor force they then exploited mercilessly to erect their great castles and earthworks, some of which exist to this day. That enmity is apparently ingrained into werewolves, which might explain why Red is on constant alert whenever Mal is around for the week or so she visits two or three times per year while her daughter Lillian is with her father. It _might_ , that is, if were not for the scathing glances Red often cast at Maleficent, whether Mal was paying attention or not, only occurring when Regina was present. Among other trustworthy sources, Iris has informed Regina that Red acts perfectly normal when alone with Mal, and that they even seem to get along rather well without Regina between them as she oft is to the keep the peace. Obviously, Red's loathing for Mal is just her own jealous, possessive streak rearing her ugly head – and it is a her, as there is no question the source is the wolf, who thought of Regina as her mate long before her human half did.

So, while it is true Mal was her first foray into the boundless pleasures of a woman's intimate touch, naturally she avoids speaking such a truth aloud to prevent any consequential effusion of blood. A fight between a dragon and the most enormous werewolf on record would not only result in one of the participants being seriously harmed, but there is no telling what damage those two would cause around the citadel tussling in their bestial forms. And as much as Regina enjoys Red acting irrationally possessive and territorial, she does not want her pleasure to come at the expense of innocent bystanders. Or worse, at Red's. Strong as Red is in her fur, could she really take on a dragon as big as a small castle and escape the encounter unscathed? Regina doesn't think so, and thus keeps her trap shut.

Plus, if Mal hurt Red...? Well, then Regina would have to hurt Mal, and she really does not want to do that. She has precious few friends as is that accept her for who she is and not who they want her to be. Mal is one of those, and the oldest at that. It would be unspeakably tragic if Regina lost their deeply embedded camaraderie because she was no better than Snow White at keeping a secret, even if it was her own and not that of another.

"Well," she amends after clearing her throat, "then I learned differently. Such revelations can sneak up on you, as you well know."

Red nods, nibbling her lip bashfully. Unlike Regina, Red had no prior sexual experience with another woman when they became lovers. Her innocence in the matter was as precious as it was exciting. And not only in that aspect, but Red was a virgin as well, having never been brave enough to breach that momentous threshold with Peter before his horrific demise at Red's unwitting...paws. Those crucial details made their first time a priceless gift twice over, so lovingly and trustfully offered by Red and accepted by Regina with all due reverence. Regina will never forget a single detail of that night. Every delightful moan Red let loose, every delicious shudder of the taut muscles in her flawless body, the keening encouragements as Regina's lips, tongue, or fingers discovered all the right spots she never imagined could make her feel so good, and even the whimpers of pain as her maidenhood was delicately torn – all are recorded for posterity within the vault of Regina's memory. Honestly, if she hadn't already known, simply being allowed to observe Red's first time while caught in the throes of some euphoria induced out-of-body experience would have convinced her she was indeed a bisexual woman with a clear preference for the fairer sex.

Getting to be Red's first in two distinct facets almost made her regret giving away both of hers, one to Daniel – a secret Leopold kept for her, one of his few commendable kindnesses to her during their marriage – and the other to Maleficent. Almost. But then she remembers Maleficent breaking her in, how the older dragon had made sure she felt immense waves of almost unbearable pleasure before being allowed to attempt reciprocation, and then how she was expertly guided in the particulars of bringing a woman to orgasm. Under Mal's diligent tutelage, Regina became an expert in her own right and was thus able to impart her wisdom to Red, who proved as eager a student as she once was.

The point, however, is that their fateful encounter on the mountain pass when Regina was hunting down Snow was the first time Red ever experienced attraction to a woman. The intensity of their connection, as she confessed to Regina during their initial and somewhat awkward dinner, had taken her completely by surprise. The fact of the matter is that when confronted by the right circumstance or person, attractions can spring up previously thought absurd if not downright impossible. And if it happened to Red, it could also happen to the baker's offspring. Even Alfred and Rina's preferences are as stated, they would not be unique in questioning them for Red's sake. More than one noble lady with a husband has let slip that they would be receptive to overtures from Misthaven's junior Queen. Hell, Regina herself has been propositioned by seemingly heterosexual women. As unlikely as such as turnabout is, it is not outside of the realm of possibility.

And so even if Regina knows she is being silly, knows that Red is being sincere when insisting she is a one woman gal, that she couldn't be happier in their marriage, and that there is no one else who could ever stir her heart or her passions the way she can, Regina cannot help but feel these irrational surges of jealousy. They aren't Red's fault by any means. No matter how much she has matured emotionally since meeting Red, she is still an inherently possessive woman who finds the concept of others wanting what is hers utterly infuriating.

 _And Red is mine, dammit. Mine!_

"True," Red says, rubbing reassurance into Regina's back between the shoulder blades, like she can sensing Regina's troublesome thoughts. Which is not unusual. Damn werewolf senses. "And maybe they are attracted to me," Red goes on. "Just a teeny tiny bit. If so, they aren't the only ones, and that's not me being boastful. I've had to deal with roving hands and leering eyes since I first grew breasts and developed a figure that didn't more resemble a twig than a girl. That's partly why I made Gran teach me how to shoot a bow and Peter to swing a sword. But that also means I have a lot of experience ignoring that kind of unwanted or unrequited attention. At least the eyes, that is. Hands get slapped."

"Or cut off," Regina growls, remembering one time when a drunk stumbling through town groped Red's chest. On instinct, Regina drew her sword and relieved the man of the offending appendage. Red was not pleased.

"Let's not go there," Red says, nose wrinkling as if remembering the same thing. She then shakes her head, clearly finding the direction their discussion was heading odious. "In fact, let's just drop this topic altogether and meander over into safe waters."

Regina nods curtly. She had not liked the subject any better than Red. "Agreed." Silence then descends in the absence of a topic, not pleasant although not exactly unpleasant either.

"Have you heard anything else from Mulan?" Red asks a moment later.

Knowing this avenue of discussion is in many ways more stressful than the one they'd just been on, Regina indicates towards the plush sofa pushed against the far wall right next the bay window. "Let's sit first." Red's agreement comes by silently allowing Regina to grab her hand and pull her over to the sofa. Only once they are both seated, hips touching, Red leaning into Regina's shoulder, does Regina finally give a proper answer. "Yes, I have heard from Mulan," she says, as Red listens intently, Regina's tightly clutched hand sandwiched between her own in her lap, legs crossed, body angled inward toward Regina. "I received a letter yesterday. There have been no further attacks in Drakkenhall since the two last month. She seems to believe this lull in activity is indicative of an imminent strike. Called it the calm before the storm."

"And you agree with that assessment?" Red asks, looking every bit as worried for Regina's safety as she had the night after they buried Robin.

"I trust Mulan, so yes," Regina says, her tone betraying her own concern. "Also, I have heard reports from my spies of troubling rumors spreading through the lowlands between Snow's realm, Stefan's, and ours. Rumors of armed men being spotted in the dense forests, never long enough to identify numbers before disappearing into the shadows like ghosts. All attempts to scout out these interlopers have come back empty-handed. I'd ordinarily regard them as poppycock, but the locals have long claimed there are secret tunnels criss-crossing the region, remains of ancient works built during the Great Ogre Wars an age ago. Perhaps there is some truth to these rumors and some clandestine force is gathering right under our noses. Or this information can be dismissed as of no consequence because they are ludicrous. Frankly I'm not sure which is the case, though I am inclined to side with the latter over the former."

"Is there not anything we can do to find out for sure? Maybe send some troops to check it out?" Red asks, voice hitching with trepidation that has nothing to do with fear for her own safety or having to don the armor of war. Red is a fearless fighter, has proved so on many occasions. But the thought of sending her people out to battle, to fight and die on her behalf against an enemy whose strength is unknown, is to her an intolerable one. And, more than anything else, she is ever-aware of the witch's threat on Regina's life.

"Not with our forces already stretched thin since the corps stationed nearby was redeployed to Mulan's command on the border." That decision had come a week after Mulan's letter announcing two more villages on Stefan's side had been obliterated by their elusive magic-wielding enemy. It hadn't been an easy one to make, as those troops had standing orders to keep a close eye on Snow and Charming's realm. And if there was any chance those two self-righteous morons might be up to something nefarious, the time to instigate those plans was right now when Regina's eyes were elsewhere. "Best to address the foe we know for a fact is operating in Drakkenhall than to waste resources on what may or may not be a real threat. If you'll recall, we made that decision together," she points out, and not unkindly.

Regina is spared Red's response by a knock on the door that she answers by straightening in her seat before bellowing an affirmative command to enter. Iris strides in seconds later, a little behind schedule, looking slightly harried. In her hand is a silver tray holding two large bell-shaped wine glasses that each contain a generous portion of the castle's finest vintage.

"I'm sorry I'm late, Your Majesties," Iris says, sounding as atypically out of sorts as she looks. "I bumped into someone in the hallway, a redheaded woman I'd never seen before, and nearly lost the tray and it's contents." Her fair face darkens almost imperceptibly. "I stopped a while to question her. Turns out she's new, just got hired onto the custodial staff. Anyway, that's no excuse. I bet your pardon once more, my Queens."

"It's alright, Iris. No harm, no foul," Red says, demeanor warm and accommodating for the maid she would insist is not just that, but her friend.

Both Regina and Red accept their wine with smiles and thanks, though Regina's response is slightly strained by Iris' explanation as to her tardiness. She knows of no new hires amongst the staff, but that is not unusual since Red encourages her to trust more in those to whom she has delegated responsibility instead of micromanaging everything as she is apt to do. Iris, to her credit, says nothing about Regina's reaction except to inquire whether she can be of any further service other than the delivery of their nightly wine.

"No, thank you, Iris," Regina says, still sitting primly while in company other than family or friends as Red nervously worries the surface of her glass. As fond as Regina is of Iris, she cannot seem to lose the distinction between servant and friend ingrained into her from a child by Cora. "You may go." When Iris gives a curt curtsy then immediately begins to leave, Regina feels Red's eyes cut into the side of her head. She sighs. "Wait." And when Iris halts to turn back, adds, "Take the rest of the evening off and don't bother coming in until the afternoon tomorrow. I'd like a lazy morning for once. Both of us could use one, I think."

"Definitely," Red says, looking much more pleased than she did a moment ago. "Have a wonderful evening, Iris. And give John our love, won't you?"

"I will, my Queen," Iris says with effusive gratitude that makes Regina feel a bit better than it probably should. "Thank you both." Whereas Regina nods politely, Red offers Iris one of her big, toothy smiles that could light up the whole castle if she stood in the right place.

With Iris gone, Regina sinks into the cushions of the sofa and blows out a breath. "I'm sorry about before. If I sounded upset or harsh, that wasn't my intent."

Red softly squeezes Regina's hand that she has still yet to surrender. "I know. And I wasn't going to argue. I agreed with your suggestion just like you said and nothing since has changed that. I'm just concerned is all. A witch burning villages in Drakkenhall, rumors of strange men lurking in the lowland forests. I don't like the feel of this one bit."

"Me either," Regina agrees, then takes a sip of her wine. The full texture and smooth flavor go down easy, warming her from the inside out. "Believe me, I wish that underhanded she-devil would just come out swinging already. I'm sick of the games. The waiting is intolerable."

"I know what you mean. There's a tension in the air all the time now. I hate it. It's like waiting for the other shoe to drop. Only when it does, I can't help but feel I'll wish it hadn't."

"As much as I agree, we can't afford to think that way. Negativity breeds defeat, and I'm not about to let this uppity sorceress, whoever she may be, beat me on my own turf. When it comes to fighting fire with fire, I don't lose, darling. You know that."

"Ah, my heroic Midnight Queen!" Red sings, using the title she'd given to Regina long ago. "There is no foe in heaven above or Hades below with whom she will not stand toe-to-toe and prevail."

"Damn straight. And don't go forgetting that any time soon." Smirking, Regina tips her glass to Red, who clinks hers against it with an airy laugh.

"As if I could," Red says after they both take a luxurious drag of their wine. "You're not exactly timid or humble about your martial prowess. Never seen anyone best you with sword or spell, and we have a lot of good fighters and magicians in our arsenal."

Head swirling pleasantly from the alcohol, though it has hit her a little harder and faster than usual tonight, Regina grins darkly. "I just look forward to defending my undisputed title in both against the bitch who killed our friend."

"Hear, hear," Red says, then raises her glass. "To justice for Robin."

Approving of the gesture, Regina raises her glass as well, smile fading into an expression of iron resolve. "To justice for Robin. May it come swiftly and violently. And preferably at the business end of my sword or your furrier half's maw."

"I'll drink to that," Red says, and then they take another gulp of the delicious vintage Iris delivered.

The rest of the evening passes with amiable conversation and a few easy silences that see them leaning against each other while basking in their mutual adoration. They also sneak in more than a few kisses, most of them chaste, though a few get heated, one so much so that Red winds up in Regina's lap before they come to their senses. All too soon, however, the wine collides with Regina as if a sledgehammer descending upon a brittle clay pot, obliterating her senses. Vision blurring, hearing obfuscated, heart suddenly pounding in her ears, she rises unsteadily and nearly collapses straight into the floor.

"Wow," Red says, helping her to stay upright. "That wine sure hit you hard. Weird. Didn't do anything for me." Regina thinks, but is not sure, Red pulls a suspicious face. "Musta just been 'cause you're tired. Let's get you to bed so you can sleep it off."

Regina does not remember much else that comes next except for being wrangled onto the bed, her clothes stripped down to the underwear, and Red's wryly chuckled comment as she is tucked in, "Good thing you gave Iris the morning off. You'll be sleepin' late for sure." Then sheets are pulled up and tucked around her shoulders and all at once, before she can even manage to part her lips to speak, the lights go out.

Once the irresistible darkness claims Regina, she remembers no more.


	10. The Green Apple

**A/N:** Here we go. Shit is about to get real. **  
**

 **Standard Disclaimer** : These lovely characters ain't mine, I just play with them gently. Please don't sue me. The mistakes are mine, though.

* * *

 **Chapter 9** – The Green Apple

Regina awakens to limbs that feel as if they are made of lead. Shuffling beneath the covers with all the dexterity of a slug, she groans a grumpy protest at the sound of birds merrily chirping on the sill of the bay window. The previous evening is a blur of hazy images and incomprehensible words after Iris delivered the nightly wine. Strangely enough, she had noticed that hers had an unusual effect upon her. Normally it takes half a bottle to produce the buzz a couple sips gave her last night. That would have been worrying except Red did not complain about hers, and her palate – while less refined through relative inexperience with fine vintages – is far more sensitive to the slightest variations in flavor. With no reason suspect foul play, Regina had dismissed her concerns as an annoying byproduct of paranoia.

Now she is regretting that, as those initial suspicions are proven alarmingly correct this morning. Even minutes after waking, she feels unnaturally groggy as if having indulged in excessive spirits the night before when she and Red only consumed one glass a piece. Not only that, but her head is pounding so voraciously that she can hardly string more than a few fragmented thoughts together before they tumble away into the misty ether of her addled brain. As if her abnormal reaction to the wine was not cause enough for concern, she realizes with the slothful return of her faculties that the sun is already high in the sky, which tells her she has slept in until nearly noon. These factors taken in combination give her the distinct impression that she has been drugged.

On any normal day, she would have been up at first light. Red is an early riser and is usually disgustingly happy of a morning, which means she is rarely able to suppress the need to share that cheer with Regina whether she is receptive or not. The subsequent wake up calls come in many forms, from gentle or playful touches and caresses, to ghosting kisses over her skin, to outright frontal assaults when feeling amorous. Even before Red, though, Regina was typically awake shortly after dawn. As a child, her mother strictly scheduled her morning regimen down to the minute, which ensured she turned out a creature of habit who rose with the sun. That internal clock came in very handy when she became Queen, as the concerns of ruling over a flourishing kingdom demand she get a head start on preparations for the long day ahead.

For a moment she wonders why Iris did not get her up earlier, and the thought of her handmaid neglecting her duties sends spikes of anger curling through her chest and stomach. But then she vaguely recalls having given Iris the morning off so that she and Red could sleep in a bit. The anger uncoils as quickly as it gripped her, and Regina breathes a slight sigh of relief that she will not have to acquaint Iris with her nasty side. Of course, that does not explain why she has hibernated until after noon. Even when she forces herself back to sleep when her internal alarm rouses her, she is usually only able to get an hour or two more before she's back up again. For the second time in as many minutes, she wonders at the cause, and though she wishes otherwise, her analysis leads her to same conclusion as before. She has been drugged.

 _But why? And by whom?_ To these questions, there are no answers. Or more accurately, there won't be any if she keeps laying here in bed staring at the ceiling.

Burning for answers, Regina attempts to compose herself with great difficulty. When she feels confident enough in her limbs to risk venturing out of bed, she slides out of the covers then off the side onto her feet only to immediately stumble and almost collapse face first to the floor. Woozy as she is, standing is a precarious process of stops and starts to unfold unsteady legs and push herself vertical. For a minute or two once she is upright she struggles to stay that way. Her balance returns to some semblance of normalcy at a lazy, aggravating pace, and once she is sure she will not be kissing the stone floor with her first step forward, she sets off carefully toward the washroom where she hopes a face full of water will wash away the stubborn cobwebs clogging up her brain. Her leaden feet drag all the way there.

Upon pushing the door open, however, all of the haziness evaporates in one horrific instant only to be replace by a terrible rush of awareness. She stops cold in her tracks as if a blast of arctic air has whistled through the doorway, a chill coils down her spine. As her heart lurches in her chest, a strangled gasp tears free from her throat. The scene before her is one that will forever be carved into her memory.

There, lying face down in the floor next to the tub, is Red. Still in her night gown, a green apple – one of her favorite treats – with a mouth shaped hunk torn out of it is clutched in her hand. Panic invades Regina's mind, overpowering senses already operating inefficiently. Feeling as if the walls are closing in on her, she screams at the top of her lungs for help and then rushes over to where Red lay upon legs that are wobbly all over again.

By the time she collapses onto her knees at her motionless wife's side, their handmaid has barreled through the door. A keen witted, straw-haired woman, Iris was handpicked by Regina after her previous handmaid, Marta, passed away unexpectedly. Red is especially fond of Iris, as they are very close in age and became fast friends after the appointment was made official. Upon seeing Red's state, Iris blanches white as a sheet and briefly sways in place before righting herself against the door frame.

"What the devil happened?" Iris asks in a frightened whisper.

"I don't know!" Regina snaps, trembling fingers feeling for Red's pulse and finding it thready but present. "Send for the physician." When Iris does not immediately jump to, Regina whirls on her, eyes blazing with scarcely contained desperation. "Now, Iris!"

Iris immediately jumps to attention and nods frantically. "Right away, Your Majesty." And then she scurries out of the room, skirts swirling in her haste.

With Iris gone to fetch help, Regina returns her attention to Red. Eyeing the offending apple, she pries it loose from Red's fingers, finding the action abnormally difficult due to the death grip Red has on the offending fruit. The thought strikes Regina the wrong way, and she feels again for Red's pulse – is relieved to find one, weak but still detectable.

Raising the apple up to eye level so she can study it, she notes that it is an alien breed that is much larger than any she knows to grow within five hundred miles. She holds it up to her nose to smell it, hoping and fearing simultaneously to detect a garden variety sleeping potion or perhaps a drug not unlike the one used to spike her drink. A thought strikes her then that Iris was the one to deliver the wine last night. Have she and Red been betrayed? If so, why? Then it hits her like a (). Is Iris in league with the witch who killed Robin? The very possibility steals Regina's breath away. The handmaid was thoroughly vetted by Regina's best investigator before her hiring, and she has been nothing but sweet and loyal since she has been on the job.

 _Not that appearances can be trusted. Once there was an innocent looking princess, only ten years old and oh-so-sweet, who proved that principle to deadly effect._ Regina frowns at the cynical bitter tint of the thought, knowing from whom it originated.

Well, if Iris is in any way responsible, she will pay

Clearing away those suspicions for the moment, Regina returns her attention to the pernicious fruit in her hand. Unlike the unnatural affliction her twisting gut is screaming at her about, a mundane sleeping spell would easily be countered. Sadly her hopes are thwarted upon detecting no noticeable trace of magic upon the apple. Either it is untainted or whatever magic affecting it is cleverly designed to pass the inspection of a well-educated sorceress skilled at potion-making and a werewolf adept at detecting them.

"I'm afraid you won't find any evidence," an accented voice trills from behind Regina, one that she instantly recognizes. "I'm far too good for that. Even your long-legged mutt couldn't sniff out anything wrong with her morning kibble."

Startled, Regina's attention moves away from her unresponsive wife to the new and uninvited occupant of the room. She shoots to her feet, turning abruptly to face a curvaceous woman in a sparkling black dress and a hideously tall and pointed hat. A mass of curly red hair is gathered up underneath the garish hat, though some of spills out in wisps that resemble tendrils of fire licking at dark hearth. The witch's face is highly symmetrical, and Regina concedes she would be a beautiful woman if her skin was not as green as the emerald gem she wears about her neck.

 _A woman with red hair._ Regina's eyes bulge with unexpected comprehension as her brain makes connections to a previously foggy memory of last night. Iris had been late in delivering the nightly wine to Regina and Red, and in her explanation mentioned that she had bumped into a new custodial worker and nearly lost the tray carrying their wine and glasses. The person Iris had collided with was a woman with red hair.

 _That is no coincidence._ _Iris just so happens to bump into this newcomer the very night my wine was drugged, knocking me out until the next afternoon? And when I finally awaken I find Red like this? No, no. This was all planned. Probably from long before that grand theatrical introduction. Killing Robin in the throne room and then directly threatening my life was merely a distraction, a ploy to make me assume she would go on the attack, burn more villages, perhaps even attempt to assassinate me or launch an invasion if she has drummed up any foreign support. All the while she was plotting to strike at that which I love most. This has been the web being woven all along, to ensnare Red and make me suffer through her, and I've fallen right into the trap_ _like a damnable novice..._

Instantly irate, at herself for doubting Iris and not predicting such a familiar tactic as much as at the intrusion and the barely veiled acknowledgment that this witch is responsible for Red's predicament, Regina acts without thought. Fireball at the ready and sneer firmly in place, she advances on the intruder.

"You...you despicable, craven fiend! I'm done with your games. Who the hell are you, _exactly_ , and what have you done to my wife?!"

The witch laughs her to scorn. "Why, I'm your elder sister, Regina! What a pleasure to meet you in person!" She gives an exaggerated curtsy that betrays her disparate origins. _This woman, powerful as she is, is no sister of mine. Not only is she no noblewoman but clearly she is a filthy peasant trying to make her name by targeting her betters._ "My name is Zelena," she goes on, oblivious to Regina's derisive thoughts, "and to answer your final question: I have indeed done something to your adorable little pup. A curse of my own design that I'm rather proud of. Be thankful. Pretty thing that she is, I originally had something far more fun planned for her. She would have made a most excellent addition to my... _collection_."

"How dare you insinuate such a thing," Regina growls at the unsubtle subtext. That is twice now the witch has made such tawdry references to Red, though this latest is the far worse of them. The idea of anyone taking possession of Red's body through her heart is as disgusting as it is infuriating – not to mention the perpetrator being this green-skinned cretin. The fireball in Regina's palm blazes hot along with her rising anger. "If you so much as disturb even a single hair on her head, I'll..."

"You'll what?" her 'sister' interrupts, looking amused as she speaks animatedly. "Torture me? Kill me? Toss me into a river with a lead ball chained round my ankle? Roast me on a spit after lopping my head off? Oh, Sis, I do wish you'd try. Any of the above, really. I haven't had a good laugh in ages."

"Don't tempt me," Regina retorts. "If you truly know who I am, then you know what I am capable of."

"Oh, _my_ ," the green-skinned witch says with mocking fear. "The infamous Evil Queen. I had expected so much from you considering our mother's extensive investment and the many rumors I'd heard of your exploits. Pity that when I researched you, I was disappointed to discover how far you've fallen. Mother would be crushed, Regina! Your pretty pet has made you soft."

Regina feels sweat beading at her temple from the effort to keep her fireball alive in her palm considering her current precarious physical and emotional state. Unwilling to give an inch to this brazen interloper, she feeds on her rage to keep it going.

"She's not my pet," she sneers, knowing what she is about to say risks setting the witch off, but she is too far gone to care. "Not that you'd know anything about having a true relationship. If you really are who you say you are, then our mother abandoned you, tossed you away like garbage at birth, because she never once made mention of you. So tell me, _sister_ , how can someone who spent her whole life unwanted understand what it's like to be loved?"

Zelena stiffens in response and her eyes harden, clearly far from amused by the slight. Regina smiles, glad to have provoked such a response when all she wants to do is, as Zelena had so aptly stated, roast the woman on a spit after lopping off her head. The fantasy of doing just that exhilarates Regina to the point of rapturous lust. It's been far too long since she unleashed the savage monster from the confines of her obsidian cage.

"I'd be a little more respectful if I were you," Zelena warns, lips curling in offense. "I am more powerful than you can possibly imagine. Don't trifle with me lest you be given a demonstration."

Regina scoffs in ridicule of a witch who thus far has been all talk and no action. "If that's true, why not just kill me and be done with it?"

"Because that would be letting you off too easy!" Zelena snarls, teetering grasp upon her temper portraying an image in which Regina finally recognizes some vague familial resemblance. Cora is becoming more and more visible by the second in Zelena, which convinces Regina more than anything else that the claim of them being sisters might actually true. "You don't deserve such a mercy," Zelena adds, and as she becomes increasingly unraveled, more and more strands of stark orange hair slip free of their nest beneath that hideous hat. "It should have been me raised by our mother instead you! I should have been the one groomed to become a Queen and then be tutored by the Dark One himself. You stole everything from me, Regina, so I am going to take from you what you love the most." Hateful blue eyes flit down toward Red's inert form. "I want you to watch her suffer and die from this curse, knowing there is nothing you can do to save her."

Forgetting the jealously laden bits of Zelena's rant, it suddenly dawns on Regina that Zelena has confirmed twice now that a sleeping curse is afflicting Red. Knowing she must act quickly, she casts a hasty shield around herself and her comatose wife, then kneels down beside Red once again as Zelena bangs her fist against the magical barrier railing an extremely colorful protest.

It is with reverent but expeditious care that Regina eases her wife onto her back. Needing to believe but not quite daring to hope, she takes a chance and leans down until her face is hovering over Red's. To focus, she concentrates on her love for Red, on how dismal her existence was before she came along and infused it with love and joy and peace and a sense of belonging unlike anything she had ever known. Red is not just Regina's wife, she is her very beating heart and her primary reason for living. Truth be told, Regina can no longer fathom a life without her beloved werewolf in it. Such at fate would be, for her, less preferable than death.

Before making contact with Red's lips, she murmurs a heartfelt, "I love you," and then seals their mouths together like she has countless times before. To her shock and profound wonder, a glorious burst of magic immediately bursts out from their bodies, flooding the room with a soft amber light that appears as if translucent liquid gold. She instantly recognizes the explosion of magical energy as the same force that Charming had used to wake Snow from Regina's curse. A force she once believed could never be produced from the depths of her coal black heart. And yet visible evidence to the contrary is right before her eyes, undeniable proof of the magical connection she and Red share.

At first, she is so stunned that Red really is her True Love that she can hardly move or breathe, her thoughts aswirl, disbelief mingling with astonishment. _How can this_ _be possible after I have committed so many heinous acts against innocents? Surely I_ _should have long ago been purged of the ability to experience such a selfless devotion as True Love. And yet magic of such primordial power does not lie._

The revelation shocks her so acutely that she falls back to her haunches. Her hand clutches at her chest as her heart stutters almost painfully. _How is it possible_ , she then thinks, _for a person to have two True Loves in a lifetime?_ For as much as there is no doubt in her mind that Daniel was her True Love, the indisputable proof of Red being the same has just been splashed across the spacious bathroom, inundating it with the golden illumination of the most pure love a human being can experience. The implications are enormous, awesome, and absolutely terrifying.

Bewildered as she is, and more than a little euphoric, it takes her a moment to realize that Red is still not moving. Which should not be. True Love's kiss should have immediately awakened her from the sleeping curse. Frantic, Regina feels for Red's pulse, finding that it has somewhat improved, although she remains catatonic. On the verge of outright panic, Regina leans down to kiss her wife again, only this time nothing happens whatsoever.

A split second later, she hears Zelena begin to laugh, a terrible sound that produces unspeakable dread along the length of Regina's spine.

"Oh, Sis," Zelena drawls, clearly happy at the development. "I already knew the mutt was your True Love. I accounted for that in my plans, in fact."

Horrified, Regina stares up at her demented elder sibling. "What have you done?"

Zelena begins walking around the spherical shield, her finger tracing along it as she moves, sparks arcing all around the verdant digit as Regina's magic protests against the foreign contact.

"Simple," the witch says, smirking hatefully, "I infused the curse with a special ingredient found only in Oz, my home world. There is a grove built high in the mountains surrounding the Emerald City where a particular species of tree grows. The leaves of that tree are very special, you see, and are resistant to any and all forms of magic. I simply procured a sample, ground it up once I had completed the curse, and bonded them together chemically...with the help of a certain cooperative wizard, of course. I never was terribly fond of the apothecary arts. With that reagent added, no magic can break this curse. Not even the fabled True Love's kiss."

Stopping her movement, Zelena allows a malefic smile to smear across the width of her brightly painted lips. "I should also inform you that this is not an ordinary sleeping curse, but one designed to siphon its energy from the body of its victim. You see, Sis, as your beloved sleeps, the spell will be slowly sucking her life force dry as her soul suffers endless torment in the Burning Room. Once her body dies, her soul will be trapped there forever, in eternal agony, unable to move on to greener pastures, as it were. And the best part is, there is nothing you can do to stop it."

Regina feels something snap inside her as Zelena pontificates about her victory. Unleashing an unholy shout, she launches herself at her enemy, breaking through her own shield in order to wrap her hands around the green woman's neck. The attack catches Zelena off guard enough that she is unable to evade Regina's grasp. When they collide, both of them tumble to the ground in a heap. Fortunately Regina lands atop of her prey, so she immediately leverages her superior position to continue strangling her witch of a sister. In a panic, Zelena thrashes to free herself but to no avail; Regina's grip is ironclad.

"I'm going to break your scrawny green neck, you bitch!" Regina growls. Dreadfully intent on doing just that, she presses against Zelena's throat with all of her might, screaming into the effort. Her belly coils hotly from the sickening pleasure she receives watching her sister's face strain and turn tomato red then begins to tinge purple as her suddenly terrified blue eyes bulge nearly out of their sockets.

Just as it feels like the bones in Zelena's spine are about to give way, the witch snaps her fingers and magics herself away. Now standing in the bedroom a dozen feet away, Zelena pants wildly, glaring with inexpressible hatred at Regina as she tries to recover her breath.

Regina gives Zelena a baleful grin as she casually rises to her feet, awash with murderous jubilation. "You won't get away that easily." She extends her hand to pull Zelena back toward her only to be met with resistance when Zelena extends her own hand out to counter the unspoken spell. Their magics begin to battle for dominance, purple clashing with green, creating a ball of muddy brown between them that starts to pulsate and groan as they grit through their effort to destroy one another.

Without warning, Zelena cries out, pushing outward with both hands, intensifying the energy flowing through her thicker, more vibrantly gleaming beam of magic. Regina feels it pushing her backward and she grinds her teeth against the cresting tide. Summoning more of her reserves, she pushes back futilely, aware that Zelena's power when unchained is more than she can ever hope to equal. As her magic gives way under the unrelenting assault, the stark green magic opposing her, threatening to totally dominate her, creeps ever closer in proximity to her hands until she is on the verge of being utterly consumed.

But then something bizarre happens. A thought crosses her mind of Red laying in the floor nearby, helpless, cursed, dying, and she feels a molten surge of some unknown energy erupt from deep within the epicenter of her being. White hot anger flashes behind her eyes, righteous indignation suffusing every cell, every atom in her body. It cascades through her system from head to toe, an unearthly fire that burns through her veins and sings a chorus of untold power within her soul.

With an inhuman shout, she taps into the mysterious energy and pushes out with her magic again. She hardly even notices that her magic has changed in color from its dark purple to a lighter lavender color. After filing that surprising development into the back of her mind for further evaluation, she trains all of her focus on defeating her enemy. She watches with grim satisfaction as Zelena's face twists in rage, her magic receding until the two are again at a stalemate. Now, however, the entire room is quaking with their combined efforts. Vases crash to the ground, shattering into a thousand pieces as the lighter furniture begins dancing a zigzag pattern across the room. Their warring magicks crackle and pop and explode with showers of color like fireworks from the staff of a petty wizard who plies his magic to entertain for gold.

Eyeing her sister with unfettered animus, Regina notices that Zelena seems genuinely taken aback her new display of magical prowess. The reaction reveals the true nature of Zelena's assessment of her, that she had genuinely believed herself to be a far superior sorceress and thus had approached this encounter as if triumph was a given. It is no wonder that she seems utterly perplexed at discovering she had underestimated her baby sister. And although Regina instinctively understands why this is happening, she is just as surprised at the development as Zelena.

Had her sister attacked while she was still a lonely, bitter woman full of rage and hatred, no doubt she would have been destroyed. She is a powerful magician but Zelena's magic is far more naturally robust than any she has encountered save that of Maleficent or the Dark One. It should have been a relatively trivial matter for Zelena to crush her like an inconsequential bug. What Zelena had not anticipated was the effect True Love can have on a practitioner of the Art. No longer was Regina drawing upon hatred alone to fuel her magic. Instead, she had stumbled into a previously untapped and inexhaustible source of energy in her boundless love for Red. Love was giving her the strength to equal her sister's raw magical superiority, leveling the playing field in a way that Zelena could not have possibly predicted even with the help of the most talented prognosticator.

In the back of her mind, Regina wishes that her mother could be present to see the proof of just how wrong she was. Love is not weakness. Quite the contrary. It is the greatest power in all of the cosmos.

"How...is...this...possible?!" Zelena growls as she exerts herself to the precipice of fatigue, sweat running down her temples in fat rivulets the wind down crimson-flushed cheeks.

Regina just grins, sweat rolling down her own face, and then gives her sister the simple truth. "Love." And with that, she pours every ounce of it into her channeling. In yet another miraculous development, her already altered magic is suddenly infused with a stark white band about the edges. It swirls and arcs as it slowly drifts inward to merge with the central beam, transforming into a brilliant shade of lilac. The new deluge of energies overwhelms Zelena, causing her to actually lose ground.

The witch screams out her frustration. "This isn't...over!" she grits out, and then just before fatally faltering, manages to blink out of existence. Only a puff of green mist is left behind in the wake of Zelena's hasty, and reckless, transportation spell.

Panting at the exertion required to defeat her foe, Regina stands and stares at her hands, awestruck at and hardly able to process what she's just accomplished. But then she remembers Red, remembers what Zelena said, that there is nothing she can do to save her beloved, and with one lurch of her heart, the incredible feat of magic is rendered entirely insignificant.

Yearning for Red with an intensity she cannot bear, she wants to run back into the bathroom and gather her wife up into her arms. Longing to hold Red tight, to will her out of the curse induced coma that has imprisoned her soul, she orders her legs to move only for the command to be ignored. In a rush of realization, she becomes aware of what she's done. Having exhausted her magic almost down to the last drop, her body is now paying the price of such a foolish but necessary gambit. Lacking the strength to even take a single step, overcome by emotion and sapped of her every last ounce of energy, Regina's eyes roll into the back of her head as she feels herself slip into inescapable clutches of unconsciousness. Just as everything begins to fade away, she vaguely hears the sound of Iris returning. Unable to speak, she sends up a silent prayer to whatever god may be listening that the physician or apothecary can help Red somehow.

Before she can even finish the thought, the blackness gathering at the fringes of her vision rolls across as if a curtain being down. Darkness descends, encompasses her, and she surrenders to its greedy claim.


	11. Despair

**Standard Disclaimer** : These lovely characters ain't mine, I just play with them gently. Please don't sue me. The mistakes are mine, though.

* * *

 **Chapter 7** – Despair

When Regina regains consciousness, it is the dead of night. The fire stoked in the hearth does nothing to dispel the chill that has settled into her muscles and bones. Other than the crackling of wood surrendering to the insatiable appetite of the flame, eerie silence reigns within her chambers. The curtains lining her extravagant and enormous windows are not drawn, and outside she can make out half of a pale crescent moon hanging high in the sky.

She groans when she tries to move, feeling achy and lethargic from having expended so much of her energy during the fight with Zelena. The discomfort is worth it, though, if only for the sweet memory of the witch's tangible disbelief and dismay. The broccoli colored bitch had not anticipated being defeated by the little sister she had dismissed as an inept non-threat.

"Don't get up too quickly," a familiar male voice instructs from her left.

Directing her attention to the source, Regina finds her father slumped in a chair against the far wall, partially shrouded by shadows. The creases around his mouth and his haggard complexion make him appear more old and weary than he has since the end of the Dark Days. He had not fared well while his only child was busy building a reputation for herself as a bloodthirsty tyrant. Dark circles are also prominent around his eyes and his lips are pressed into a tight line that is uncharacteristic of late. He presently resembles the days after Cora's coup and subsequent reign of terror temporarily wrested control of the throne from their daughter. Unforgivable atrocities were committed against the kingdom's subjects and his beloved daughter-in-law, both of which weighed heavily upon his tender heart.

Prince Henry, seventh son of Xavier, never forgave himself for his youthful inability to recognize Cora's manipulations for what they were. Given free reign to practice her dark magicks, she slowly succumbed to an insidious influence that gradually transformed her into a hideous monstrosity who repeatedly abused their only child. His guilt only deepened after Cora returned from exile in Wonderland and thereafter put his daughter and daughter-in-law through the proverbial wringer. Even so, until the very end he harbored a soft spot for the miller's daughter whose audaciousness won her the hand of a prince and a title to go along with him.

Some infinitesimally small part of Regina sympathizes with her father's plight. No matter how much hurt she endured, she still cared about the heartless witch she called mother and always would. Unlike her father, however, that did not stop her from doing what was necessary. Executing her mother was the hardest thing she ever did. It was also the most righteous. The unerringly selfish woman more than deserved to die. For far too long Cora had escaped her just dues, the universe itself had demanded satisfaction for her many atrocities. Furthermore, Regina wasn't about to let her get away with all she had done to Red. Hell, even Cora's ludicrously merciful husband grudgingly recognized the justice in crushing that coal black heart into so much dust.

Perhaps the strangest part about the whole sordid episode was that rather than cause strife between herself and her father, it drew them closer together. Once, the sight of him was a nuisance she often wished she could rid herself of. In many ways, he was her second shadow, only with a voice and a conscience and an annoying penchant for exercising both at the least convenient moments. Back then, she simply could not tolerate unwelcome reminders of a time when she was full of optimism and kindness. Yet even at her worst, she never forgot that he was the only person who ever openly showed her any form of affection in her youth, which is why she could never scrounge up the strength to banish him from her presence once she was crowned. It is only now that the soulless winter season of her life has so dramatically shifted into vibrant spring that she has developed an appreciation for his immutable devotion. He has always been a man of insufficient will who let his imperious wife run roughshod over him, but he was – is – a good father.

It is because of that affection that Regina permitted his constant interference and insufferable moralizing once she became Queen and, later on, the Evil Queen. For all of his sanctimonious preaching, he lacked the constitution to openly oppose her, so she never heeded his warnings about how her violent behavior would forever stain her soul. She was aware of how it pained him to watch her commit crime after crime, to hear about her most recent lapse of self-control that almost always resulted in mass casualties and exorbitant destruction of property. He held his peace for the most part because she was his little girl, having loved her in spite of her wickedness just as she loved him in spite of his weakness.

Regina could not – or would not – acknowledge the parallels between herself and her mother, however many times her father tried to get her to. It was only after Red reawakened her slumbering heart that she began to question the way she was conducting her life. With each tale related concerning her many vile acts, Red deftly and respectfully helped her to see how frightfully similar she became to the heartless monster she called mother. It was no wonder that her father quickly became Red's biggest fan when he had been trying to tell Regina the exact same thing for years without success.

Having fallen under the sway of Red's easy-going manner and simplistic charm like every one else, Henry quickly grew attached to his daughter's new paramour. Mostly Regina chalked that fondness up to how happy Red made his only child. Via Red's influence, the Evil Queen was slowly receding in favor of the daughter he had lovingly raised and doted upon at every available opportunity. The reemergence of her softer side pretty much sealed the deal on Red's sainthood insofar as her father was concerned.

Beyond that reference to their mutual love for Regina, there was also genuine affection between the two borne of interests she probably should have guessed they would have in common. Many times while she was taking care of urgent state business, they would sneak off to go hunting or fishing. Both of those were activities the former prince had always cherished but never got to indulge in while married to Cora, nor had he been permitted to teach Regina such undignified skills. Because he was so distant from the throne, his father extended him plenty of latitude to pursue his interests, and he took advantage of it as often as he could. When she was a girl, he used regale her with stories of how he used to go on month long hunting trips, living off the land and what he caught, learning how to respect nature and to fear it. He was a talented archer and fisherman in his day, preeminent among his peers in his ability to track game with only the most minuscule clues. He had lived his entire youth on up into his adulthood out of doors, and Regina could distinctly remember how sad he seemed to reminisce knowing that the days of his wilderness adventures were long behind him.

Red, on the other hand, was born without a silver spoon in her mouth. As a child, she had to scrounge and fight along with her grandmother for every scrap and morsel she could wrench from the stingy grip of the earth. She had learned her skills out of necessity, but along the way she also learned to appreciate the freedom that can only found beneath a sprawling blue sky, and to genuinely enjoy such activities inextricably associated with surviving natures constant quest to kill the living. She is a forager able to outpace the most veteran apothecary assistant or herbalist and a hunter without peer who utilizes her vastly superior senses to track prey far beyond the range of a normal person. Her expertise with a bow is also becoming legendary, especially since she beat Robin in a fair and square archery contest. Once zeroed in on her quarry, whether it be deer or pheasant or turkey or boar, Red can strike a fatal blow with a single arrow from two hundred yards away, even if the animal is on the move at a full sprint. Regina had witnessed this ability personally, else she would have scoffed at the notion of such a feat. And not only was Red an incredible huntress, she would also lug her score back to the castle without aid, where she would then gut it, skin it, clean it, and then quarter it with the precision of butcher. Her grandmother had taught her that wastefulness was disrespectful of the life that had been sacrificed so that they could live another day or week or month. It was a lesson that Red took to heart, which is why she utilizes every scrap of the slain animal that she can.

There was one particularly harsh winter that Red and Regina's father had teamed up to pick up the slack when food stores began running low. Being that her father was old, he could not do as much as he wished, so he helped where he could by hunting or fishing while Red foraged deep within the foreboding recesses of the surrounding forests. Once Red came back from her gathering excursion, Henry would retire for the day, and upon sorting out their gains to their proper places, Red would venture back out again not return until the sunrise. After an hour or two of sleep in the wee hours of the morning, she would be back at it, and it was in large part thanks to their diligent efforts that half the staff of the castle did not starve.

This mutual affinity for nature created a bond between Henry and Red that was unique and endearing, and which Regina sometimes envied. It was almost like Red was the daughter he wished he could have raised her to be, and she had to admit that her life would have been much easier had he been allowed his druthers in her rearing. She would have preferred hunting and fishing to the boredom and drudgery of court life. But even though her upbringing was not easy, things worked out for the best, so she tamped down on her envy. How could she be anything less than thrilled that the two most important people in the world to her were so deeply fond of one another.

Her father's clear concern at Red's state, then, is understandable. He has to be feeling as if he is on the verge of losing an adopted daughter. It couldn't have helped that his biological one passed out from over-exertion in a magical fight with the perpetrator of this unreal fiasco. All of the stress has to be taking a terrible toll at his advancing age.

Regina would offer whatever consolation she could were she not too wrapped up in her own anguish. Any sympathy from her right now would sound empty and meaningless when her wife has been cursed by the sister she didn't even know she had until this afternoon.

At the thought of Red and that damnable apple, Regina springs up, eyes widening as panic sets in. "Where is she, Daddy? Where is Red?"

"Calm down, Regina," her father says, standing to make his way over to the bedside. Once there, he clasps one of her hands tightly. "I had her moved into the guest chambers opposite yours. She is safe."

Regina's eyes began to swim with unshed tears as all that had happened with Zelena storms back into the forefront of her mind. "But she's not safe, Daddy. Not at all. The witch that killed Robin did something to her, cursed her so that even True Love's kiss did not wake her as it should have."

Her father's gapes at her for a moment. "True Love's kiss?"

Regina nods as she grips her sheets with her free hand, straining her fingers against the luxurious fabric as she struggles with her overwrought emotions. "When Zelena confirmed that she had cursed Red, I knew I had to try. And it worked, Daddy, much to my shock. I saw the magic burst from our bodies when I kissed her." As she looks up at her father, a tear escapes her lids and slides forlornly down her cheek. "Red is my True Love, yet she did not wake up."

"Regina, that's wonderful!" he exclaims, latching on to the positive just as he is so prone to do. He had missed the most important part.

"Yes, the first part of it is," she agrees, but her tone is anything but happy, and her father finally notices that.

He gives her hand a squeeze. "That's what I meant, of course. But I am confused as well. If True Loves kiss worked, why does Red still sleep?"

"Zelena did something to the curse," she explains. "It's not like the one I put Snow under. She somehow altered it so that no magic can break it, and she has also designed it to slowly drain its victim. If I don't find a cure, Red will wither away and die."

Dropping her father's hand, Regina slides out of bed, careful not to tilt over when she puts her weight onto her legs. Her father is there to steady her, but she brushes off his attempt to help. After running a hand through her errant hair to smooth it down, she shuffles over to the door only to be stopped short by her father's voice.

"Can you do it?" When she turns, he is staring at her with tears of his own gathering at his lids. "Can you find a cure?"

The gravity of the situation has finally hit him in earnest, it seems. A pang of sympathy tugs at Regina's heart for her elderly father. He looks so very frail. Losing Red would likely strain him precariously near to a tumble over the crested edge of a deep depression from which there might be no escape. But however much she hurts for him, she cannot afford to let concern for anyone else distract her. Selfishly, her main priority is Red – and herself by proxy, as her own survival hinges upon Red's.

A sharp stab of pain lances through her chest. _Red cannot die. Not now._ The seven years they have spent building a happy life together have accumulated a net value exceeding any computation. In that span they have won the admiration of a kingdom through concerted efforts to improve the lives of all citizens. And they have made so many memories of love and laughter, of nasty quarrels and unforgettable apologies, of lazy morning cuddles and nighttime passion, more memories worth treasuring than the rest of Regina's thirty-seven years combined. To be sundered from her True Love now, having accomplished the previously unthinkable, would break Regina beyond repair. The delicate shards that Red so patiently and lovingly reconstructed will simply shatter all over again, this time into a million jagged shards that can never be put back together. Whatever distorted form emerges from the wreckage, whatever sad reflection of humanity she can salvage from the destruction, it is guaranteed to be grotesque. If the Evil Queen was born out of Daniel's death, what monstrosity will arise from the molten ashes of Red's? Regina does not want to find out. Frankly, the thought petrifies her. She does not ever want to be _that woman_ again.

At the same time, she also knows she has to be honest, if not with her father, than with herself. Managing expectations is the only way she will survive the coming crisis without driving herself straight through the amorphous threshold of insanity.

"I don't know," she tells him frankly. "I wish I could say otherwise, but I simply have no answers right now. All I do know is that I will do whatever I have to do to save her. That much I can promise you. Beg, plead, steal, kill, break hearts or minds or bodies, or burn the world to cinders...I will do what is necessary to save her. And if that means I die in the trying, so be it."

"Please don't talk that way," her father says, his legs momentarily faltering. If possible, his already thin, waxy skin looses even more color. "Losing Red is bad enough. I can't lose you, too."

"She's not dead yet, Daddy. Neither am I. And I don't intend for either of those facts to change." Drawing in a shaky breath, she shakes her head. She has wasted too much time already. Her heart is crying out for Red and she must obey. "Stay here or go elsewhere as you please, but I need to see my wife now. Alone." Her father nods sadly at the dismissal, and with that, Regina throws open the door, heedless of her disheveled state of undress, and strides out into the hallway.

Garbed in only her favorite black and royal blue lace nightgown, she ignores the gawking eyes of the servants as she makes her way across the hall to stand before the door of the royal guest chambers. She doesn't bother knocking. Upon barging into the room, her eyes immediately fall upon the bed. And there lies Red, looking for all the world like she is merely sleeping. If her own memory of what befell her wife were not enough to break that idyllic – and infinitely preferable – illusion, the rumpled form of Victor Frankenstein scrunched up in a chair next to the bed does. All but comatose from exhaustion, Regina has never seen the man more bedraggled.

She does not say a word to the Head Physician as she crosses over to the far side of the bed. As carefully as she can, she nestles upon the edge next to Red's hip. Her heart ramps up pace until it is pounding erratically against her breastbone, and as she leans over Red's inert form, she brushes a lock of dark brown hair away from a fevered forehead. Her fight against the sob bubbling up within her chest is increasingly a losing prospect when all she wants to do is claw at her eyes and tear at her hair as she rages and weeps uncontrollably at the cruelty of fate. How perverse is it that Red is paying the price for Cora's chronic inability to be a decent human being? The callous abandonment of Regina's half-sister was the first domino to fall, sparking a chain reaction of ruined lives that culminated in this detestable catastrophe.

Emotionally reeling, Regina ignores Victor's abnormally unassuming presence as she leans in to press a loving kiss to her wife's sweat-dampened forehead. Red's skin, normally warm to the touch, is on fire, burning within from the unnatural malady coursing through her veins. Perhaps this symptom, Regina laments to herself, might even be a physical manifestation of the inescapable torture of the Burning Room to which Red is currently being subjected. The idea of her wife suffering in that horrible place wrenches a choked sob from Regina's throat, and she dully notes that the bitter tears she'd tried so valiantly to suppress are now steadily dripping from her chin onto Red's face.

Despair, thick and palpable descends upon her, and for a lung-crushing moment, she suffocates on it. Red is cursed, dying, and she no fucking idea what to do. How is supposed to fix this? Or how can she ever live with herself if she fails to deliver a cure? How is she supposed to ever sleep again without Red's familiar weight next to her or slung half atop her or rest for a single second without that preternatural warmth engulfing her and providing her with an essential sense of satisfaction that seeps down into her very marrow? How is she supposed face another moment without Red's smile to illuminate the darkness of night and put the sun to shame during the day? And how is she meant to survive without the half of her heart, of her _essential being_ , that makes life worth living? She honestly does not think she can, which is why she said what she did to her father.

Her wedding vows ring in her mind, an echo of the past unexpectedly shedding light upon her future. She can see now that they were so much more than perfunctory words merely part of an elaborate ceremony. She had meant every word as she spoke them, of course, but it is only just now she realizes how profound and prescient they were. Her life is now tied to Red's, for better or worse, and that is not a metaphor or some flowery declaration of devotion. It is the literal truth. If Red dies, so will she. Maybe it won't be by natural causes or the severing of some supernatural cord that has tied their life forces together. If not of a grief Niobe could not fathom then it will surely come purposefully by her own hand. Either way the result will be the same. Red will be dead and so will she. There is only one other possible outcome and it is totally unacceptable. Death would be far preferable than descending one again into madness.

Overwhelmed by an agonizing misery she cannot contain, a strangled sob pries free of past her lips. They are audible expressions of her untenable emotional distress, harbingers of a collapse that seems so horrifyingly imminent. Her earlier resolve to resist the despondence clamped around her entire body dissolves into so much vapor. In the background ambiance of her mind, she hears the darkness calling out to her and can feel it wrapping its seductive tendrils around her heart.

It would be so easy to give in, to surrender to the path of least resistance like she'd done once before. The road has already been paved long ago, and it lies before her an unending avenue of onyx bricks rolling ominously toward a horizon alight with raging hellfire. It is a manifestation of the apocalyptic path terminating within her innermost malignant depravity and it's familiarity brings a comfort she now knows to be hollow. Capitulating to evil the first time gained her only a cold throne and won her an ultimately unfulfilling power. The pervasive loneliness and a constant misery that followed was interspersed with brief flashes of ecstatic debauchery that nearly extinguished the faltering flame of her humanity forever.

With great effort she pushes back temptation, for Red's sake more than her own. It had been Red who rescued her from the ignoble fate she is now sure awaited her should she have remained steadfast in her single-minded obsession for revenge on Snow White. Red had shown her a route to escape the clamoring horde of her personal demons and then encouraged her to rejoin the wider world in a constructive capacity, all without losing in the process who she fundamentally is as a person. With Red, she can be loving and decent without the shameful naivete and spinelessness that characterized her youth. She can be soft and hard at the same time without sinking into the oxymoronic. And maybe the gray existence she has settled so fluidly into isn't what heroes like Snow would define as acceptable, but it's one that suits her just fine.

Temporarily de-fanged, the slavering beast within subsides into the fringes of Regina's psyche. It will leave her alone for a while, at least, though the stalemate won't last should she fail to save Red and somehow persist after burying her better angel. Should the unthinkable come to pass, there will be no halting her meteoric descent into a new level of malevolence that will eclipse anything that ever came before. She'll become a true monster then, one that even the Evil Queen would cower before.

Heedless of the audience, with hope warring with pessimism over the future, forlorn and angst-ridden over her wife's fate, she slumps onto Red's barely moving chest and finally surrenders to her sorrow.


	12. A Whale of Conversation

**Standard Disclaimer** : These lovely characters ain't mine, I just play with them gently. Please don't sue me. The mistakes are mine, though.

* * *

 **Chapter 11** – A Whale of a Conversation

The guest chambers Red has been placed in pales in comparison to the cavernous suite reserved for the Royal Couple. There is little furniture to speak of, just a modest armoire sizable enough to accommodate the wardrobe of a visiting dignitary and a similarly scaled mirror-topped chiffonier. The attached bathroom is only just big enough to fit in the small tub, lavatory, and an antiquated garderobe retrofit at great difficult to utilize the recently developed sewage disposal system – yet another gift from Victor's more technically and scientifically advanced realm – being slowly but surely installed throughout the castle. Plain black velvet drapes hang over the two narrow windows cut equidistant into the outside wall the chamber is built out from, and there are candelabras enough to read by in any corner of the room at any time of night. It is also dreadfully quiet, having somehow received extra insulation during construction, which incidentally also makes these rooms Red's favorite escape to shield her sensitive ears from the cacophonous bustle of the castle. In the absence of the blood rushing in Regina's head, the silence here is especially deafening.

Having regained some semblance of control over her faculties after that fit of despair, she can feel Victor's gaze on her before she hears him speak.

"There's nothing I can do for her. I'm sorry," he says, his tone dull and devoid of his typical arrogance.

She has no idea how long she's been locked in the unforgiving grip of her grief when his apology arrests her attention. The only indication of the passage of time is the candle perched upon the end table, which has burnt through a tenth of its weight. However long she has been trapped upon this tumultuous ride over waves of a seemingly endless sorrow, she is glad for the interruption. Not wanting to appear any more pathetic in front of the physician, she willfully forces herself to face him.

Once calm, she wipes her face of the tears smearing her cheeks before turning her attention to the only other conscious occupant of the room. Now fully alert, Victor is hunched over in the chair so that his elbows are resting upon his knees, eyes underscored by dark patches, skin tone washed out, hair frazzled, a picture of defeat. Never has she observed the man to be so downtrodden and laden with guilt. As if only passively aware of her studious appraisal, he stares at Red forlornly, unmistakably portraying just how much he cares about his current patient. It is startling to witness Victor show so much emotion, and for perhaps the first time since they met all those years ago, Regina cannot help but sympathize with the clinically detached scientist.

Red is the only true friend Victor has in the castle by virtue of her indomitable courage to butt into his life regardless of whether he asks her to or not. With time, her persistence in occasionally dragging him out of his laboratory to commiserate over ale and bread resulted in him adopting a slightly more personable attitude. Few if any aside from Red could have accomplished such a feat when most give up on the aloof doctor within the first conversation. But Red is relentless with her friendship, and it's obvious that Victor loves her for unwillingness to give up on him. That, and he owes her for his very important and incredibly lucrative position within the kingdom.

It was only because of Red that Regina sought him out with an offer of employment in the first place. On route to Midas' realm for a diplomatic event, this was before Midas' daughter Abigail ascended to the throne, she and Red had stopped halfway between to lodge for the night. While there, they dined at the local establishment which, although quaint, cultivated a warm, jovial atmosphere that was inviting enough that Regina could overlook the stained floors, worn surfaces, and unpleasant smells associated with a tightly packed throng of human bodies boasting various states of cleanliness.

" _It's good to mingle_ _below your station_ _every now and then,_ " Red had reasoned, dragging Regina by the hand. " _I know this isn't your scene, but_ _people like to be reminded once in a blue moon that their rulers aren't so different as they are when it comes down to the nuts and bolts. Everybody likes to drink and eat and laugh and tell terrible jokes, even highly dignified individuals such as yourself. So at least this once let these folks see that you're one of them. Please? For me._ "

Well, Regina wasn't one of them, but she _was_ a pushover who humored Red far more than she should. Despite her initial reservations, they had a lovely meal and the service was more than adequate, though that was to be expected when the entire staff was sure to be on their best behavior with two Queens in their midst. Regina had concede that she actually enjoyed herself, though she did have to give the evil eye to a few bold individuals whose unwelcome stares lingered a little too long in their direction for her tastes. It was only after finishing an excellent dessert cake featuring strawberries and cream that she caught sight of a familiar crop of blonde hair. Tucked away at a corner table, it was as if he was trying to make himself disappear, which probably would have been preferable to what came next.

The very second Regina recognized Victor Frankenstein, the mellow atmosphere vanished in a flash of searing anger. The ensuing confrontation was not pretty. Nearly everyone in the little eatery went rigid and bug-eyed when she thundered across the small space, as if field mice having heard the slithering and sibilant hiss of a viper's approach. Thankfully Red was long used to her mercurial temper by then and quickly sprung into action to curtail any undue acts of destruction against person or property. Even so, she could not prevent Regina from dragging Victor outside by his lapels, where she proceeded to threaten his life should she ever lay eyes on him again.

Later on after much coaxing from Red, Regina recounted the disastrous debacle with Daniel's heart. She spared no details in describing how Victor had built up a false hope of resurrecting her slain stable boy and then proceeded to mercilessly crush it by lying to her. Left with only a devastation that refused to abate and a murderous rage at being so cruelly betrayed, she was a ripe and low hanging fruit for the Dark One to pluck. She learned some years later what really happened, that Victor had made a deal with Rumple for an Enchanted Heart and she was the unwitting sap they used to get it. Rumple's reward was a disciple ready and willing to cross lines of decency she previously she could not.

During the harrowing tale, Regina idly mentioned that Victor was a scientist and a physician of peerless skill in his world, which was why Rumplestiltskin often consulted with him. Because the royal physician back at the Dark Palace was an old man set to either soon retire or drop dead at any moment, Red had seen an opportunity that could not be passed up. Regina, as might be expected, did not take the suggestion well. Trusting the man who had so swiftly and brutally stabbed her in the back with their health seemed too ludicrous an idea to even consider. Red disagreed.

They bickered well into the night about what was best for the kingdom before Red eventually won out with a series of increasingly effective arguments. The first was that Regina should consider Victor as a tool to be used and nothing more. Employing him, Red insisted, did not mean trusting him implicitly. Furthermore, prudence would be exercised for everyone's sake by putting him under surveillance until such time her very reasonable suspicions abated. To increase the pressure she was already feeling to make an objective decision, Red then swore to take on personal responsibility for Victor should Regina find herself amenable to hiring him on a trial basis. The coup de grâce was delivered when Red shamelessly resorted to the tried and true tactic of pouting and batting her eyelashes – a combination to which Regina had a well-documented susceptibility. It worked, too. Damn the woman and her irresistible charms.

The next morning with Regina's provisional approval, Red had rode ahead of the caravan and met up with Victor on the road. Regina never found out what was said to convince him to come work for them, only that when Red returned, a triumphant smile was plastered across her lips. Like with everyone else she encountered, it wasn't long before Red wormed her way into the cold scientific heart that beat within the chest of one Dr. Frankenstein.

For her own part, Regina still does not care much for Victor personally, but Red trusts him, and that is enough for her to do so as well in professional matters. Three years on and he has yet to disappoint that remarkable show of faith. As long as that continues to be true, there will be never be any cause for her to make good on the promise she made at that modest inn among the rolling hills near the border with what is now Abigail's realm.

"I've failed her just like I failed Gerhardt," Victor then says, pulling Regina from her thoughts. The mention of his dearly departed sibling is another stirring piece of evidence as to how guilt-ridden he is over being hamstrung in Red's treatment.

There is much for Victor Frankenstein to regret in life and many unpardonable sins weighing upon his shoulders, but his inability to cure a supernatural malady such as Zelena's curse is not one of them. From the brief exchange with her sister, Regina is painfully aware that this plague is beyond even his prodigious medicinal acumen.

"You haven't failed, Victor. This is all my fault," she replies as she traces the outline of her wife's face. With slow, deliberate movements, she runs the pads of her digits down a strong jawline and then across full lips that she fervently wishes were moving with unfettered excitement as the latest amusing story or breathtaking adventure is described. "I'm afraid there is nothing either of us can do at present," she adds, her voice choked with emotion. "This affliction is one that cannot be remedied by science or any magic available to us here in the Enchanted Forest."

Out of the corner of her eye, she notices Victor's eyes narrow intently. "You know what this is. Don't you?"

Regina responds with a tight, stunted nod. "It is a sleeping curse. An altered version that even True Love's kiss cannot break."

Victor studies her face carefully, looking for something. She isn't sure what, although she suspects he is dubious about her analysis. His next words confirm that.

"Not that I doubt you," he says, though he clearly does, "but I'm curious as to why you are so confident in your assessment. I've seen a lot of magic during my tenure serving as your chief physician, and a fair few sleeping curses as well, but nothing like this. This is something entirely alien to me."

"You wouldn't have ever encountered it before," Regina answers, surprisingly steady now as her mind temporarily diverts from grief over Red to a technical discussion about the magic currently afflicting her. "The ingredient preventing magic from working to dispel this curse originates from another realm: Oz to be specific." Victor's brows raise at that. "As to how I came by this information, the person who cursed Red told me from her own lips. She is my elder half-sister, Zelena, who incidentally also hails from Oz."

Victor's expression turns almost comical by the time she is finished. It is an understandable reaction. In addition to her healthy skepticism, Regina was equally shocked at the claim.

"A sister? I was unaware you had a sibling. I thought you were an only child."

"As did I," she tells him. "My mother was a precocious liar, so I am not the least bit surprised she kept such an enormous secret. And while Zelena did not give much away, I was able to infer by her reactions to some things I said that she was abandoned like so much trash immediately after my mother squeezed her out from between her legs. She hates me because of that...among other preposterous reasons I won't bore you with."

Giving a prolonged sigh, she turns her eyes to Red, whose pallor is grossly unhealthy and flushed with fever. Yet she is still so beautiful that Regina's entire body aches with want – want to see those pretty green eyes, to hear that angelic voice call her name, and to be given one more blinding smile. She loves this woman more than all of the wealth and power the world can afford, more than her own life, and it is that fundamental nature of her love for Red that Zelena ruthlessly preyed upon.

"In essence, she wants to see me suffer, which is why she targeted Red rather than me. She knows that this is hurting me far more than any physical damage she could inflict upon my person. I believe my sister is categorically insane, but she is far from an agent of pure chaos. There is an undeniable method to her madness, a devious intelligence dead-set upon wreaking as much havoc as possible upon my life. I suppose that is a genetic trait I have Mother to thank for."

For a long moment, Victor stares at her as if not quite sure how to react to all he's heard. Eventually he says, "Wow. That, uh...that's heavy. For what it's worth, I'm sorry about all of it."

Regina gives him a curt smile that is nowhere near genuine. "Thank you. But my suddenly and tragically expanding family tree is not my present concern, as should be obvious."

Victor nods sharply, then stands and clasps his hands behind his back. He paces back and forth at the side of the bed for several seconds, flitting his eyes down at Red as he digests what he's learned. It is his method of processing information so that he can come to a conclusion about a complicated question or a solution to a vexing problem. A moment later, he stops to address Regina.

"Did your sister give any indication of what this mysterious ingredient was?" he says. "In my limited experience, when poisons are crafted from herbs or fungi or fruits, the antidotes are found in close proximity. Nature generally provides a locally accessible method of escape to preserve balance."

"That makes sense," Regina replies, then shuffles off the bed to take up position next to Victor. The wheels in her head begin turning as she analyzes her memory for clues. It takes some concentrated wracking of her brain to recall the finer details of Zelena's conceited diatribe, but she does manage to summon up a mention of how the reagent was concocted. "Now that I think about it, she _did_ reveal something – more than she intended, I believe. A critical mistake. Her hubris may just play in our favor. I remember very clearly that she said the unique reagent she used was made of ground up leaves from a tree that grows high in the mountains near the Emerald City."

The information evidently intrigues Victor, who lets out a hum then deliberately taps his finger a few times against his lips before speaking. "Interesting. Occasionally in nature there is a dichotomous symmetry where one part of a plant is poisonous while another heals. It's no concrete rule of thumb, but it happens more than you would think. If the remedy can't be derived from a plant that grows nearby, perhaps it can be taken from the same tree."

His deduction is the first ray of hope in Regina's increasingly bleak world. She already knows where the tree grows, so finding it will not be a problem. No, the problem is transportation. And it is a big one. The supply of magic beans has dried up and there hasn't been a sighting of one of those enigmatic tornadoes on the continent for years. Pixie dust lacks the _oomph_ to punch a hole through the fabric of space into another world, not that the Fairies would help considering Blue's contempt for her. They are just the sort of sanctimonious hypocrites who would refuse to help Red – who is the primary reason their precious Snow White still lives – in order to spite the woman to whom she is married. Furthermore, the purportedly all-powerful Sorcerer has not been seen or heard from since his arrival in Camelot and his apprentice is reportedly also in the wind along with his famous wand. There is only other reliable method to traverse worlds she can think of, and that is not an option either, all because of her.

"While that information is no doubt promising, there is the small matter of finding passage to Oz," she says, frustration lacing her words. "The giants have stopped trading with the rest of the world thanks to George's buffoon of a son and his expired wench, so beans are no longer a feasible method of traveling across worlds. All other means I am aware of are lost to us as well."

"Ah," Victor drawls, finger that was formerly on his lips now held aloft, "but that isn't a problem at all. I recently received a letter from Jefferson stating that he had returned home, and was set to inform you the moment I verified it's veracity, which I subsequently have." When Regina reacts visibly to Jefferson's name being spoken, Victor's eyes soften just a touch. "I know he is a sore spot for you, but the hat would get you to Oz and back should you be able to convince him to help."

"Jefferson's escaped Wonderland?" Regina wonders aloud. "However did he manage that?"

Last she had heard, which was some time before she'd met Red, he was still a prisoner of the Queen of Hearts, whose true identity was that of Regina's mother, Cora. Her mother's successor was nearly as appalling an individual, so she hadn't held out much hope for the hatter to survive too long.

Victor shrugs. "With Rumplestiltskin's help if I had to wager a guess. To what end the Dark One lent a hand, I don't know. The letter did not say much, and I haven't spoken with Rumple since...you know."

Regina hums in contemplation, ignoring the reference to their sordid past. After considering her options, she realizes that whatever she decides, she will be required to make a sacrifice. If she chooses to seek out Rumple for more information, she will be forced to sacrifice her pride, something she has never been good at. At the same time, if she does nothing, she will be essentially sacrificing Red's life, and that is an even worse outcome than her being pathetically humbled before her old mentor.

"Well," she eventually says, "it's not an ideal scenario to involve either Jefferson or Rumple, and were Red's life not on the line, I would surely seek other avenues in order to avoid them altogether. But this is the one scenario in which I must rein in my pride. I would know what plans Rumple has for Jefferson, not only for Red's sake but for the realm as well. Also, I should like to pick his brain about Oz. I know for a fact that he has been there before. He mentioned his visit to me once during one of his babbling lectures. And since I learned the apothecary arts from him, he may well have useful knowledge of this specific tree."

"Dealing with Rumple is never a pleasant experience," Victor says, his unease unmistakable, "nor is it ever profitable. All the same, should you decide to consult him, I would like to be present, if only for the benefit of my patient."

For a split second, Regina considers refusing the request. Seeing Victor and Rumple together in one room again is bound to dredge up some old, unwholesome feelings. She only reconsiders because she's desperate and, more importantly, Red's needs must come first. It would be prudent to have her physician present to advocate on her behalf as well as for the purpose of his extensive medical knowledge.

"Very well," she says, giving her assent before sending a gentle smile in his direction. "I should thank you, by the way, for sitting with her while I was indisposed. It eases my mind to know she hasn't been alone."

Victor waves her thanks off as if unnecessary. "Don't mention it. It was the least I could do for the friendship she's extended to me. Beyond my obligations to her as a patient, she's important to me. I want to see her whole again. Perhaps not as much as you, but I do all the same."

Feeling benevolent, and somewhat hopeful now that there is a plan of attack to save Red's life, Regina reaches out to give Victor's shoulder a friendly squeeze. "I know you do. For what it's worth, she feels the same. And no matter how complicated or strained our relationship is, I appreciate the honor you show her by keeping her trust. As long as that remains true, our past will stay there so far as I am concerned."

Relief and gratitude wash over him like a cool summer shower. "Thank you. I won't let either of you down."

"See that you don't," Regina says, releasing him as she gives him a snarky smirk. "I don't fancy replacing someone of your prodigious skill. Snatching you up was a great coup for our kingdom that I would hate to see squandered."

Victor grins back, his blue eyes twinkling. "No chance of that, Your Majesty. Not only do I want to keep my heart in my chest and my head attached to my neck, I actually like it here." His expression turns soft, then, almost vulnerable as he glances down at Red. "I'd never admit this under ordinary circumstances, but this is my home now. In large part because of her."

"She would be thrilled to hear you say that," Regina says, her own focus turning back to the incredible woman who, despite all odds, has bound two former enemies together. If only she knew she and Victor were the test case, and that a few more reconciliations would follow, all prompted by a shared affection for one goofy, sweet, loyal, and loving werewolf.

"Then I'll make sure to tell her when she's awake." Victor then draws in a weary breath before releasing it slowly. "Well," he says after scrubbing his face with both hands, "much as I'd love to collapse face first into my bed, I have a lot of research to do. I'll leave you alone with her while I go rifle through my materials. Also, while I'm gone, and with your permission, I'd like to consult the herbalist that lives in the village below. She is well traveled and has an encyclopedic knowledge of herbs and plants that may be of some use."

"That's acceptable. Thank you, Victor. You may go," Regina says as she carefully sits on the bed at Red's hip, gaze never leaving her unnaturally still wife. Victor shuffles away, and when she hears him turn the doorknob, she calls to him one last time.

"Yes, Your Majesty?" he answers.

She casts a sharp glance at him over her shoulder. "Just so you know, I will summon Rumple in two hours. With or without you."

"I'll be here," he says earnestly, then resumes his exit.

Once he is gone, Regina leans back down over her sleeping wife to better study features with which she is so intimately familiar. Red is always gorgeous. Always. Even under a withering curse, her beauty leaves an ache in Regina's chest that is as familiar as it is unwelcome considering the circumstances. Now, it is a stark reminder there was a time she visited this very fate upon Snow White.

So many preparations were made for the day she finally caught up with the perpetual thorn in her side. Acquiring the imprisoned Charming from George had been the cake. Forcing Snow to eat a tainted apple of her own making at the site of Daniel's grave was the delectable icing. She'd been so euphoric over that victory that for a week Red's molten fury and bitter disappointment didn't make a dent in her celebrations.

Fate, it seems, is not without a depraved sense of humor.

She cannot help but conclude that Red's dilemma is the just desserts for her crimes against an innocent young girl whose only mistake was to trust someone who in her limited experience should have been trustworthy. Snow's own mother, from what Regina knew of Eva, had been a veritable saint, a paragon of virtue who epitomized motherhood. It was no wonder the girl had trusted Cora to do the right thing; Snow was not raised by a heartless witch who destroyed everything good in the name of power. It was only natural she assume Cora would have Regina's best interest at heart.

Instead of putting the blame for everything that went wrong in her life where it rightly belonged, Regina heaped it all upon the narrow shoulders of an ignorant child. She had wrung her hands together in glee as she had plotted and contrived and meticulously arranged the princess's demise, and now she is getting a taste of her own medicine. Only Red is paying the price rather than the real culprit. The guilt of that is almost more than she can bear.

"I'm so sorry, my love. This is all my fault," she whispers.

Bitter tears begin to fall once more now that she is alone – alone in a room occupied by two. The thought is utterly abhorrent. Red should never be so still, so lifeless, not when she is almost always in perpetual motion at any given time. Not when her presence alone is sufficient to inundate the most spacious of rooms with her buoyant and vivacious personality. Red brings vivacity with her wherever she goes, but now she has been reduced to an empty shell and it makes Regina sick to her stomach. Her wife's body is present, yet her spirit is absent, having departed the planes of this world to be imprisoned within a place of torment from which there is no escape. And it is all her fault.

"I'm so sorry," she raggedly gasps, and the phrase turns into an anguished mantra as reason flees the premises. "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry! _I'm so, so sorry!_ "

Without Red's steady warmth and encouragement to stabilize her faltering foundation, all Regina can do is cave in under a weight of sorrow that threatens to crush her very soul.


	13. A Deal with the Dark One

**A/N:** Fair warning: long chapter ahead. **  
**

 **Standard Disclaimer** : These lovely characters ain't mine, I just play with them gently. Please don't sue me. The mistakes are mine, though.

* * *

 **Chapter 12** – A Deal with the Dark One

A sharp knock on the door startles Regina out of a grief-induced stupor. The heavy haze blanketing her consciousness is a remnant of the self-flagellating she did over her role in Red's current predicament. She cannot recall much that has happened since Victor departed beyond the initial waves of illogical guilt that battered her into submission, reducing her to little more than a useless, shriveled lump of anguish.

Sometime during her restless inactivity she had managed to wrap around Red, almost as if she were subconsciously trying to climb inside her wife's body to wrench her soul back to its rightful place. It hadn't worked, obviously. Red remains stubbornly imprisoned within the curse, oblivious to the world which continues to rotate heedless of her absence. Meanwhile Regina's world felt as if it had screeched to a grinding halt. At least the physical contact helped to soothe her oversensitive nerves. She had been on the verge of disassociating before her stampeding emotions mercifully ran out of steam.

Tired of being the victim of a sorrow she cannot seem to escape and feeling somewhat more composed, she gingerly disentangles herself from her wife. Sitting up requires just as much caution, as she does not want to to jostle Red needlessly. That her efforts go unappreciated is beside the point when Red is so helpless. Treating her body with the utmost respect while she is incapacitated is the least Regina can do, really.

With a prolonged groan, Regina rubs at her eyes and takes a tremulous breath just as another louder knock sounds. It echoes through the room as if a mallet is being utilized rather than a fist, and is immediately followed by a familiar male voice calling out, "Your Majesty, may I come in?"

Ignoring the visitor for a moment, Regina swings her legs to the side and then shuffles out of bed. Cognizant of her compromised equilibrium, she rises slowly to her feet. The journey to being vertical is made more unpleasant by the relentless pounding of her head. No doubt the condition is a symptom of the misery that is her constant companion being compounded by the alarming drain to her energy reserves from the confrontation with Zelena. The good news is that she is accustomed to working through blinding migraines as she has done so many times in the past; for Red, she will endure any discomfort for however long she must. There is no pain on earth that could keep her from doing whatever is necessary to save her wife.

"Enter," she calls out after a moment, her voice scratchy, but loud enough that the person who had asked her permission hears and obeys. When Victor Frankenstein steps through the opened doorway, Regina arches a sable eyebrow. "What is it, Victor?"

"You said to return in two hours," he tells her as he steps into the room.

Regina stares at him, hardly able to comprehend the passage of so much time without her being aware. It had honestly felt like minutes.

"Has it been two hours already?" she asks after a moment.

"Yes, Your Majesty," Victor replies, eyeing her with concern that Regina dismissively waves off.

"Don't look at me that way. I'm fine," she says, then takes a deep breath and smooths a hand down her twice rumpled clothing. She'd been so distraught, she hadn't thought to change into something more suitable. Deciding to amend that oversight, she snaps her fingers and arrays herself in a dress befitting her mood, solid black, trimmed in jagged and vicious embroidery the color of rich red wine. She is no longer a wife in mourning but a Queen on a mission, a killer set loose upon the world after enduring seven years of solitary captivity. She feels dangerous all of the sudden, and wishes that Zelena would show her verdant face so that she can peel it off and have a Hallows Eve mask made of it.

Seeming to sense the change in her attitude, Victor stiffens. "Of course you are, my Queen. I, uh...I consulted some of my more esoteric tomes, but uh..." he shuffles a bit, looking nervously at her, "I am sorry to report that I didn't find anything of pertinence."

Regina arches a brow and then returns to Red's bedside where she perches in the same position she had been in earlier. Although she is feeling stronger and more confident, she still needs the proximity, needs to be close enough to see and hear that Red is still breathing and feel the warmth of her skin indicating blood is still flowing through her veins and thus her heart is still beating.

After picking up Red's hand between her own and depositing both in her lap, she looks back up at Victor. "And what did the herbalist have to say?"

That snaps Victor out of his tentative posture. His eyes gain a little bit of spark that gives Regina a renewed hope. "She was actually quite a useful resource. She hadn't heard of any such tree, nor had she been to Oz. However, she confirmed my theory about the likelihood of the antidote being found in the vicinity where those trees grow or from other parts of the trees themselves. I think we may have a viable course of action to pursue."

Regina actually smiles, and it feels like the first time she's managed one in weeks. "I believe you are correct, my dear Doctor." But then her smile evaporates as she realizes there is no sense putting off the inevitable. "As encouraging as your news is, I want to consult with Rumple before I make preparations for an excursion to Oz. Time is too precious for any to be wasted. If he can narrow down the search parameters, it is worth the risk to parlay with him. Would you agree?"

Although Victor seems surprised that she has asked his opinion, to his credit he does not voice it. Instead, he nods reluctantly. "Unfortunately, I do."

Reluctant is not a strong enough word to describe how little Regina wants to do what she has to next. She hasn't seen her old teacher in so long, she has almost forgotten the dread that is always associated with calling upon his name. None prey more gleefully and mercilessly upon those in dire straits as the Dark One. Were there any other alternatives, she would take them. But there aren't. She is desperate and in need of information she firmly believes only one person can provide.

Drawing Red's hand up, Regina presses her lips against the back and deposits a reverent kiss there. "I'm doing this for you, my darling," she whispers against the feverish skin. She is somewhat relieved to feel Red's pulse thrumming through her pronounced veins. "I know you find Rumple to be distasteful after all he's done. I wish there were another way..."

Red's poor opinion of the Dark One was solidified when Regina confided to her about life as a young Queen. Isolated from her home and family, reeling from a loss that fundamentally changed who she was as a person, she was forced to adapt to a new situation that felt more like a living hell than the paradise of wealth and influence her mother viewed it as. Upon learning how Rumplestiltskin preyed on that despair, had wielded it like a yardstick to guide her one step at a time towards the inviting darkness just over the horizon, Red swore that if she ever encountered the man in person she would rend him limb from limb. And she almost made good on that promise.

Rumple has visited the Dark Palace exactly once since Red became her lover. One afternoon around the Autumnal Equinox, he showed up unannounced with his typical dramatic flair. He had just learned about her relationship with Red and was hoping to gain an advantage in their ongoing game of tactical manipulations. Instead, he was caught unawares by an enormous werewolf at the height of her strength. The instant he fully materialized, Red pounced. He could not even twitch a muscle or recover his wits enough to toss her away with his magic before razor sharp teeth clamped around his throat, ready and willing to separate his head from his torso. Against her better judgment, Regina stepped in before blood was shed, knowing that Red was no match for Rumple under less favorable circumstances, and that Rumple had learned his lesson. Foremost, loathsome as he was, she was reluctant to erase a resource of such invaluable experience, skill, and knowledge. Red thought that was a ridiculous reason to let a potential threat to them walk away. In retrospect, Regina's restraint proved all too sagacious – here she was, years later, needing his help.

 _What if I had let Red kill him that day? With whom would I have to deal in his place?_ The thought turns her insides cold. There are individuals whose objectives are far less...gray...than those of the Dark One, individuals who do not just bend or skirt the rules and conventions of civilized society but utterly eschew them in favor of unfettered chaos and pure evil. While she cannot argue against Rumple being a devious, self-serving, manipulative bastard, he is at least a devious, self-serving, manipulative bastard who honors his bargains – and, most importantly, with whom she has a lengthy history. _Better to deal with the devil you know..._

In any case, after almost having his head separated from his neck by an overprotective werewolf, the Dark One avoided confronting Regina whenever Red was in the vicinity. He braved doing so when she was alone only a handful occasions in the meantime, and never since the last visit three and half years ago while Red was absent visiting her grandmother in the White Kingdom. Still, Regina occasionally gets the distinct feeling he is watching them carefully, methodically plotting his revenge and waiting for the perfect moment to strike. His unnatural interest in her has yet to wane, and though she has yet to figure out why that is she has no interest in broaching the topic at present. There are far more critical matters at hand.

"I swear," she continues, now rubbing her cheek against Red's limp palm, "if there were any other options available, I would pursue them rather than risk inviting _him_ here. But there are none, so I have no choice. Please forgive me." After another gentle kiss, this time to the pulse point of her wife's wrist, Regina carefully replaces Red's hand back at her side and then stands.

Without bothering to warn Victor, she strides into the center of the room, hands on her hips, and sternly beckons, "Rumplestiltskin! I, a desperate soul, summon thee. Heed my call at once if you are interested in a transaction."

A puff of purple smoke immediately fills the center of the room right in front of Regina, and she watches with sharp eyes as her former mentor materializes in front of her.

"Why, I thought you'd never call on me again, dearie," he says, voice trilling merrily. "You must be very desperate indeed. If I didn't know better..."

"Save the canned speech, Rumple," Regina interrupts curtly. "I asked you here to make a deal. But before we go any further, I would know whether or not you can deliver what I require from you."

His entire being perks up at the opportunity to strike up a deal. He has been looking for a way to finagle her into one for a very long time, but before this she'd had no reason to haggle with him. All she had wanted was Snow White dead, and that was something she felt more than capable of accomplishing on her own. All the same, he was right before when he said she is desperate. Effectively, she has been backed into a corner with no escape route save the most excruciating one. His awareness of that makes him all the more dangerous. There is no one who exploits vulnerability with as much flamboyant finesse as Rumplestiltskin.

"A deal you say?" His unnatural, disconcerting eyes glitter in the orange light cast from lit candles nestled in brass scones lining the walls. "I'm already intrigued. What is it, in particular, that you are after?"

Regina hefts her skirts to her ankles and steps close to the imp an entire continent has feared for far longer than she has been alive. Rumplestiltskin's reign of terror has lasted centuries, and though she would have preferred it to have ended long ago, she finds herself grateful it has not. The countless others currently suffering from an ill-advised deal stricken with him are inconsequential when she presently requires his expertise.

Once close enough that their noses nearly touch, she glares down her nose haughtily, relishing in the fact her impractically high heels lend her a slight height advantage. As per usual, the display of dominance does not perturb him in the slightest. Both know who has all the leverage here.

Regina, as usual, is simply too proud to back down. "Knowledge is what I seek," she answers, hands at her hips wearing her best imperious expression. She gestures toward him with a mocking smirk. "Although I am unsure the subject is one upon which you are well versed. It would be a pity if my summons were to prove futile."

Rumple tuts a sound of disappointment. "Preposterous. As you well know, I am aware of almost everything that goes on in this world and have access to much of its history. I doubt there is any related topic with which I am unacquainted."

"Ah," Regina interjects, waving a taunting finger, "but my inquiry does not relate to this world. I am after information about another one altogether. A place called Oz."

The mention of that name causes Rumplestiltskin falter, and his shock is so evident that he cannot deflect fast enough for it to escape her notice. _Interesting,_ she thinks, filing that unexpected reaction away. Something about Oz in particular disturbs him and she would love to know what that is.

Dark glittering eyebrows draw together, and he averts his eyes momentarily before responding. "Oz you say?" His taps his chin as if in thought. A distraction meant to feign disinterest. It doesn't work. Frequent exposure to his mannerisms and tics means Regina can see right through him, and he knows it. He cuts piercing eyes back at her. "Whyever would you want to know about that ludicrous place? Planning a vacation in the near future?"

Rather than give him a straight answer, Regina snarls and draws up to her full height. "That's my business, not yours. Just answer the damn question."

Her response seems to please Rumplestiltskin, which alerts her to having revealed a sensitive spot. Picking at those, she knows, is a specialty of his. After all, he had prodded at the weeping wound of Daniel's death until spreading out into a yawning chasm that resisted all attempts to close it. She hates him so much in that moment that it is a minor miracle that she keeps her temper in check. And it is for Red's sake alone that she bites her tongue. She cannot afford to give him an inch to play with.

Grinning smugly at her obvious anger, the Dark One maneuvers around her to stand at the foot of the bed upon which Red rests. Victor stiffens at his approach but does not move, instead choosing to stand his ground in the space between the bed and Rumple. Apparently his first instinct is not to protect himself but the only person who has ever made a concerted effort to befriend him. His action, though futile, earns him a sizable portion of Regina's respect. If Victor is willing to place himself in so precarious a position for Red's sake, she is also willing to try and move past her old hurts involving him. That is, if they all get out of this mess alive.

"So nice to see you have landed on your feet, Victor," Rumple greets. "I wasn't sure you'd ever crawl out of the bottle after that wee mishap with your monstrosity of a brother."

"I had help," Victor says gruffly, keeping himself wedged between Rumple and Red. The way he cuts his eyes down at Red for a split second does not go unnoticed.

"So the mutt dragged you from the depths by the scruff of your collar, eh?" Rumple says, wearing a mocking grin that turns sinister when it shifts over to Regina. "Seems she has a penchant for rescuing those on the verge of drowning." He chuckles with satisfaction when Regina's entire frame coils up as if a rattler about to strike. "Say," he then gestures toward the bed, still inordinately pleased with himself, "this summons wouldn't have anything to do with your Queenling's precarious predicament, now would it?"

For a moment, Regina fears he has already figured out what happened, and for a variety of very sound reasons. Not the least of which is how he might be planning to utilize the situation to his benefit. There is no end to what he could get away with by using Red's condition to force her into a far worse negotiating position than she was envisioning had she not been so unforgivably stupid. It was an amateurish mistake to have summoned him to her in the very same room as her cursed wife.

Perceptive as usual, Rumple latches on to her insecurity with frightening speed. "I couldn't help but notice the werewolf's condition upon arrival. I am _the_ master apothecary, Regina, as you well know. I can detect a well-brewed sleeping curse a mile away, even one so cleverly modified as this one appears to be."

Regina shoots a warning glare at the beast who took a broken girl in a gilded cage and transformed her into a remorseless killing machine. How foolish she was back then to ever trust he wanted to help her! And now here she is again, inviting him back into her life, ready and willing to surrender her very soul if that is what it takes to get the information she needs. Red is dying and Rumple is holding all the cards, which means that for all intents and purposes she is at his mercy. Which he knows, and is enjoying lording that over her far too much if that smarmy smile and nefarious glint in his eyes is any indication.

That Rumple hates Red only complicates an already near untenable situation. Not only does she not fear him, but she has been systematically severing the ties between the Dark One and his former pupil. That his influence on Regina has all but vanished earned Red a place high up on his list of enemies. Plus, and for whatever reason, Rumple seems to genuinely fear the wolf, which would work to Regina's advantage were circumstances more ideal and Red was capable of defending herself. Sadly neither is the case, as the situation is about as grave as it can be and the wolf is trapped in a living purgatory just as surely as her human half. Regina would not put it past Rumplestiltskin to exploit this opportunity to neutralize Red for good if it meant getting his hooks in her once again.

"I won't bother lying about the situation. It is as you say," she tells him, narrowed eyes issuing a threat which she then audibly reinforces. "But if you're thinking about using her condition to your advantage, think again. I am warning you right now: if you try to harm her or use this to gain any sort of influence over her whatsoever, I will kill you."

Regina deliberately leaves herself out of the equation. Since discovering Red in her present state, she has always been cognizant on some level that she may have to trade her life to secure Red's. She had told her father as much not much more than three hours ago. Nothing has changed since then. What she is _not_ willing to barter with is Red's life or freedom. Everything else is ultimately fair game. Rumple does not neat to hear her say that though, as he probably has already figured that out, and even if has hasn't she most definitely is not going to clue him in.

"Oh, don't be so dramatic. I have no desire to muzzle that overly excitable furball of yours." Rumple's expression was meant to convince her that assessment of his intentions is absurd. It isn't.

The spindly wheels turning behind his eyes did not go unnoticed. No doubt he was mentally attempting to manufacture an outcome that would get rid of the thorn in his side that was once called the menace of Perrault – Perrault being Red's hometown – and who is now affectionately referred to by the locals as the Big Bad Wolf. Time, Regina realizes, is running out for this deal to not cost her _everything_ , meaning she has to act quickly lest he formulate a plan that might hinder the goal of summoning him.

But then he takes her completely by surprise and promptly switches directions. "I must say, I detect a note of familiarity in this magic. Tell me, who is the responsible party?"

Drawing a ragged breath, Regina lets it out slowly. As much as she doesn't want to talk about this, she has to. The chance of learning something of value is too important to pass up. And besides, it's better than having to issue further threats to curtail his unacceptable interest in Red, which no doubt would only have stoked the coals of his own capricious and volcanic temper.

"My half-sister, if she's to be believed," she answers. "According to what I was able to glean, my mother gave her up shortly after she was born."

Again, Rumple is blindsided, and this time, Regina has no choice but to press him when he is off balance. Judging by his subtle flinch, he knows or at least knows of Zelena.

"You've met her, haven't you?" she asks, stepping closer.

"Unfortunately, I have had the displeasure of making her acquaintance."

The disquiet obvious in his reply further frays Regina's already thin nerves. If the Dark One is apprehensive about her sister, was all that bluster about how powerful she was not really bluster at all? If so, what impact might that have upon the mission to save Red? Should they have to square off again, would she have a chance, even were she able to access whatever reservoir of magic enabled her to win their previous scrum? Regina doesn't know, which is bothersome to say the least. One thing is certain, though, Rumple's apprehension regarding Zelena is doing her confidence no favors.

"How is it possible that you know Zelena? Did my mother tell you about her?"

Rumple shakes his head almost imperceptibly. "She did not." Turning away from the bed, he steps back around Regina and into the center of the room. Crossing one arm across his chest, he tucks the elbow of her other arm around it and then grasps his chin with his hand. As he contemplates how to respond, he gives it a few slow strokes. Once decided he says, "Before I began your training in earnest, your... _sister_ traveled to our realm using an enchanted pair of slippers. For a time I pinned my hopes upon her becoming my protegee and had hoped to mold her into a sorceress capable of greatness beyond imagination."

This information startles Regina. She'd always thought she was his first choice. "Why didn't you?"

"Because she is an impetuous creature wholly ruled by her emotions." He frowns deeply, creasing his face in a way that makes him appear even more inhuman. "Zelena is utterly incapable of compartmentalizing. She was not raised by Cora as you were to master her turbulent feelings. They were a constant distraction from her studies. That, and...well, other reasons I'd prefer not to think about." He trails off, expression further souring, the smacks his lips as if something truly awful was lodged in his mouth. He then shivers, brushes a hand down his leathers, re-straightens his shoulders and the odd moment passes. Now recovered, he adds, "I terminated her apprenticeship when I realized she would never take to formal education. She was a _mite_ displeased with that decision, but what could she do? I am the Dark One, after all." A manic giggle is punctuated by a twirling finger. "A click of her slippers later and she was gone, back to Oz to sulk, no doubt. Never heard from her since."

The truthfulness of Rumple's appraisal of Zelena is beyond doubt. In their brief duel, Regina had clashed with a woman who was convinced that she was superior in every way and yet completely lost control when her plan began to unravel. There was only one conclusion for Regina to make: her sister was unable to adapt to unexpected variables being introduced in the heat of conflict. Regina has seen that same phenomenon so many times on the battlefield, when a commander or soldier's failure to acclimate to the shifting dynamics of combat enables a nearly defeated foe to snatch victory from the greedily slobbering jaws of defeat. Emotional people such as Zelena depend on meticulously constructed stratagems to ensure their victories, and when those plans are executed without a hitch, they are virtually unstoppable by conventional means. But when order gives way to chaos in the heat of battle as it is wont to do, such individuals lack the creative coping mechanisms to churn out split second decisions that stave off disaster. Catastrophic failure is almost always the result.

This glaring character defect gives Regina a distinct advantage if she is mindful of it during her next encounter with Zelena. Improvisation is something she excels in, and she is going to have to exploit that ability if she wishes to defeat a sorceress who not only is unarguably powerful but has proven herself capable of scheming up intricate plots with multiple angles all moving at the same time. Regina is more of the type who subscribes to the philosophy best described by some of Red's folk, who would say, _zuerst nachdenken_ , which means 'act first, think later.' Or as Regina's paternal kin might put it, _tomar el toro por_ _sus cuernos_ – that is, take the bull by his horns. In this case, that tendency to leap _then_ look works to Regina's favor. The element of surprise is likely to be key in any future encounters between her and her loony half-sister. Their respective approaches dictates that she cannot afford to meet Zelena on the field of her sister's choosing. To do so would be courting almost certain disaster.

There is one perplexing question pricking at the back of Regina's mind, though. Even when fueled by True Love, Zelena was able to equal her in terms of raw output. Which leaves Regina to wonder: if they are indeed sisters, why does Zelena seem to possesses such vastly superior natural energy output and reserves?

Curious from a purely professional standpoint, she raises a sable brow at her old mentor. "If Zelena and I both inherited our magical talent from our mother, why was she able to nearly best me when I was resisting her with the most powerful magical force known to man?"

Rumple gives a disapproving tut. "Who said you both inherited your magic from the same exact source?"

"I just assumed..."

"Didn't I teach you never to assume?" Rumple interrupts, tone as snidely chastising as when she was a novice. "Your father could not be taught to summon a grain of sand. But Zelena's? Now, there's a chap who had potential. So horribly tragic he squandered it. He could have been a great sorcerer if he had an erudite benefactor such as myself. Or hadn't been mastered by the easily distracted head between his legs. I suppose in that way, he is rather like his bastard of a daughter." When Regina makes a noise of utter disgust at the tacky comment, Rumple giggles gleefully. "Oh, don't act like a prude, it doesn't suit you," he then trills, merry at her discomfort. "Also...a bit hypocritical from what I've gathered. Rumor is you have that wolf of yours howling almost every other ni—"

Having heard quite enough, and blushing furiously with Victor as an audience, Regina stops the discussion from getting any further afield into matters neither of the men in her presence have any business being privy to.

"Alright! I get it! Just..." she sighs and pinches her nose before continuing, "just get to the point."

"Spoilsport," says Rumple, entirely too pleased with himself. "The point is...Zelena was born to parents who were both naturally gifted with magic. There is also a wild ingredient to her I've not quite been able to figure out. Perhaps due to the vortex that snatched her out of this world and delivered her to Oz? _Hmmm_..." He wiggles a bit restlessly, clearly perturbed by this mystery he apparently cannot solve; one of few that Regina is aware of, which makes her sister all the most interesting – and frightening. And then as quickly as he zoned out he is back in the present. "Anyway, the result of these...elements…means that she is far more inherently powerful than you ever dreamed of being. Why, she was using magic while she was still in diapers whereas it took you a week to master a basic conjuration as an adult! You are your father's daughter. Aren't you, dearie?"

Regina bristles at the blasé delivery of that particularly sharp barb, and again when he smirks triumphantly at her outrage. Pride, her worst character flaw, swiftly provokes her to anger when she is being compared unfavorably to anyone – particularly other practitioners of magic. Too much was sacrificed in obtaining mastery of the dark art to be seen as the lesser of anyone other than her centuries old instructor.

"Posture all you want," Rumple continues without allowing her to retort, "but I assure you that your only advantage in this quarrel will be your ability to out-think her. And that is precisely why she struck at that which is closest to your heart."

Which is nothing Regina had not already concluded. "You say am I not her equal," she counters, still seething about being ranked lower on the magical totem pole than her batshit-insane sister. "And yet I defeated her in a fair fight. Had she not fled, I would have killed her this afternoon."

He shrugs as if that minor victory meant less than nothing. "Be that as it may, escape she did. I assure you, she most certainly will return. And make no mistake, when she does she will be much better prepared." He glances over at Red and then back at her, his eyes full of scathing accusation. "Your mother tried to warn you, Regina, as did I. Love is weakness. Zelena is using your love for that girl to destabilize you. You may have won the battle but the war is far from over."

 _He is wrong_ , she thinks, remembering what her love for Red had enabled her to do. A fight she surely would have lost to her much more powerful sister, if Rumple is to be believed, instead became a conspicuous statement. Not only that she is willing to do whatever she must to restore Red to life, even if that means she must expend herself in the effort, but that she is motivated by something Zelena cannot comprehend, something cosmic and primordial that can inspire superhuman feats that otherwise would be impossible. To diminish that, to diminish _love_ , as weakness is nothing short of folly.

Crossing over to Red's beside, she takes her wife's hand and grips it tightly. The alarming heat from fevered skin seeps into her cold fingers, bringing her warmth and reminding her that while Red may be terribly ill, at least she is still alive.

"What you call weakness is in fact the very opposite," she then states with a boldness only experience can produce. "As it turns out, you and mother were both wrong. Horribly wrong. My love for _that girl_ is what gave me the necessary energy to overcome Zelena. Because love is strength. It is wealth beyond measure. It is a weapon that no sword can deflect and which no shield of steel or magic can withstand. It is power of such infinite and majestic grandeur that the gods themselves, should they indeed exist, would kneel before in awesome reverence. For you see, Rumple, True Love doesn't just break curses. It creates miracles."

"So you are wholly given over to delusion then," he says, unconvinced, and judgmental. "True Love is powerful, yes, but inherently unpredictable. You cannot rely on it to win your every battle. Training, experience, and natural propensity matter much more in the unpredictable environments of open conflict. If I were you, I would heed this freely given advice. For when Zelena returns, she will not hold back. There will be no hesitation, no petty theatrics. Playtime is over, dearie, and when she is prepared to engage you again it will take more than what you and your _T_ _wu_ _e_ _Wu_ _v_ can muster to stop her."

When Regina starts to object, he raises a hand, eyes imploring her to listen to reason. "She hates you more than anything else, and yet she displayed no intentions of killing you earlier. That should tell you something. She wants you to suffer."

"I know," Regina replies, gritting her teeth together. "She said as much."

"Then do you not see the danger you face? She has likely been plotting this scenario for years."

Regina frowns dismissively, causing Rumple to scoff at her unwillingness to heed his warnings. She knows he is aggravated by what he would describe as willful ignorance.

"As I had been plotting Snow's demise," she retorts. "But the fruits of all my scheming went to naught the moment I met Red. Let Zelena come, let her irrational envy and malice be what compels her to try and destroy me. If Red has taught me anything, it is that love can overcome hate."

"You keep mentioning the love you share with the werewolf, that it is True Love. But tell me: if that is indeed accurate, why does she remain asleep? Has hatred not won a great victory already?"

"No, it hasn't! True Love's kiss _did_ work, but Zelena somehow already knew what Red and I shared, even before I did. And while you are correct that she remains asleep, she is also alive, and that is the reason I asked you here. Victor and I have a plan to counter Zelena's curse."

"Oh? Color me intrigued. Pray tell!"

That Rumple seems particularly interested now that she has mentioned that True Love's kiss has not broken this particular curse is an extraneous source of worry for Regina. She knows why. Were he to gain such a recipe, he would surely utilize it for some nefarious purpose. And though she wants him to remain ignorant of Zelena's clever modification to the sleeping curse, she feels there is no alternative but to enlighten him. She only hopes her decision does not come back to bite her in the ass.

"During our discourse," she tells him, "Zelena taunted me that I could not break the curse with True Love's kiss. She added a rare ingredient to her curse, one found only in Oz high in the mountains surrounding the Emerald City. There, a tree grows which sprouts leaves immune to all forms of magic. She ground it up and mixed it into the potion she used as the base for the curse, thus infusing it with a protection against being broken by any counterspells, even the most potent of all. I must know: have you heard of this tree? And if you have, is there an antidote? If I do not find one, Red will die, for Zelena also modified her curse to draw its energy from its host body. It is killing her already, albeit slowly..."

"Well, this is certainly quite the quandary you've found yourself in," Rumple says, echoing her own thoughts. "Zelena's ingenuity is truly impressive."

"To hell with her ingenuity! I didn't ask you here for commentary on my sister's prodigious fluency with magic. I want you to answer my questions!" She heaves a frustrated sigh when Rumple raises a glittering eyebrow, and changes tract. Her temper never did get her anywhere with him. But there is one weakness that she knows Rumple has aside from his precious maid. "As I stated earlier, I am prepared to make a deal in exchange."

"Because of how desperate you are – and you are so deliciously desperate – I am sorely tempted to extract a high price from you for this," he replies, clearly interested in the carrot she dangled so temptingly before him. But then he goes and surprises by refusing the inroad to her life she just offered. "However," he says, hands steepling beneath his chin, "I will grant you this one allowance. Not just because you were once my most promising pupil, but because I share in your enmity for your deranged sibling. For once, we have aligned interests. So, to answer your questions, yes, I know of this tree, and yes, there is an antidote. However, it will not be easy to procure."

Regina is sure her expression reveals how stunned she is at Rumple's apparent act of mercy. She is, of course, immediately suspicious and wants very much to press him further about his stated reasons for this unexpected gift. But as he so aptly put it, she is desperate, and at the moment cannot bring herself to care about his motivations. If he was willing to forgo his general fare, then she was all too happy to embrace this stroke of good fortune.

"What is the antidote?" she asks, her tone reflecting how essential the answer is.

In response, he tilts his head and studies her in that reptilian manner that never fails to set her teeth on edge. He then gives her an uncanny grin. "Bark from the same tree from which the leaves grow will do the trick. There is a recipe to concoct the potion that you will need to obtain elsewhere, as I do not know it offhand."

Regina's eyes narrow pointedly. "If you don't know how to make the potion, how do you know the bark will work?"

He giggles at her skepticism, finger twirling in the air as he sings out his reply. "Let's just say that I know someone, who knows someone, who knows that said reagent will in fact counteract the protective magicks currently preventing True Love's kiss from breaking the curse."

Regina sighs, aggravation at his antics close to overriding her gratitude for the boon he just extended to her. "I'll just have to take your word on it, I suppose," she says. "Still, I don't understand the difficulty in obtaining bark from a tree. Seems easy enough to me. I know how to reach Oz already, and once there, it is only a matter of locating said tree, which should be no problem if I conduct a brief investigation. A little gold will loosen the lips of the locals, and if not, other means of persuasion will."

"Ah," he replies with a flourish of eccentric movement, "but it is not that simple. I can tell you already that the grove in which the tree grows is no ordinary place. It is a sanctuary tucked high in the mountains beyond the Emerald City. The climb is treacherous enough that only the very hardy attempt it outside of pristine weather, which is unusual as bitter cold and snow blanket the precipice most of the year. And once you reach it, you will find it protected by a gate that only the pure of heart can open and pass though."

Regina's countenance falters and she stumbles back a pace at the devastating setback. Scaling the mountain would be difficult; she is no avid climber like Red. All the same, she is sure that if she had no other choice, she could do it. Losing a couple fingers or toes to frostbite would be a small price to pay to save Red. No, it is the last part of Rumple's warning that has her heart stuttering.

 _Can nothing ever be easy? How am I supposed to get into a place only accessible by the pure of heart?_ By any generous definition, that is not her. At her most unsullied by the evils of the world, she was never the picture of an idyllic lady. Her development of a temper did not coincide with Daniel's death. Ever since she was a child, she has been hot-headed, stubborn, combative, and quick to unleash an acerbic wit and sarcastic tongue. The young woman who so heroically saved a princess on a runaway horse was far from perfect. She is fairly certain that even back then she could not have opened the gate.

But then she thinks of her sister, who had managed to obtain leaves from the tree for use in her nefarious scheme.

"How did Zelena gain access then?" she poses. "She is as far from innocence as I am, if not more."

"Your sister is like you in more ways than she is not," he tells her, quirking his eyes over to Red, heavy innuendo in them. "Like you, she is...fluid in her preferences. After departing the Enchanted Forest and returning to Oz, she chose a partner whose heart was unsullied by darkness – a fellow Cardinal witch by the name of Glinda, of the purest character. If I were to wager a guess, it would be that Glinda retrieved the leaves for her, probably under duress. You, however, do not have such an innocent soul at your disposal. One who is not under the thrall of a curse, anyway."

Tears pricking at her eyes, Regina turns away. The cure feels so close, right at the tip of her fingers. Traveling to Oz, to the mountain north of the Emerald City, and scaling it to reach the summit will be no problem with her powers. But she cannot open the gate. Her heart that was once pure has long since been irreparably tainted by the darkness. Now, though it is healing slowly through Red's ceaseless love and limitless devotion, it is a lump of black with streaks of red that fight and claw for what little purchase they have. Her past has been a ghastly specter looming over her shoulder the entire time she and Red have been together, and now it is preventing her from saving the one person who is able to restore her to even a similitude of the person she once was.

Red, her sweet Red. The light of her life, the very beat of her heart. Regina cannot bear to be the reason her wife dies, cannot fathom having to bury another True Love. What will she do if Red passes from the circles of this world solely because she failed her most crucial test? Because she folded under the strain of her greatest moment of crisis? How will she face herself each morning knowing it is her fault that the woman she loves more the life itself is dead and buried, cold and rotted in the grave? And that is precisely what will happen. A certain self-righteous individual will never permit her best friend's remains to be defiled by dark magic, even that which is meant to preserve the dearly departed from the corrosive processes that break down everything which has expired. No, like she always does, Snow will...

It is that thought that strikes Regina like a vicious slap. The accursed name of her greatest enemy reverberates in her mind like an unending echo that collides with her earlier remembrance of rescuing a certain princess in distress from a potentially deadly equestrian accident. _Snow White. Snow White. Snow White._ Snow White, the helpless little girl whose naive affections for Regina got Daniel killed. Snow White, the insufferable child who smothered Regina with unwanted attention. Snow White, the bandit princess who arose from the ashes of her smoldering life to become a Queen in spite of Regina's best efforts to the contrary. Snow White, the blindly loyal and eternally optimistic brat who never gives up on anyone, even on the woman who'd spent her nearly every waking hour either plotting to murder her or executing said plots. Snow White...the people's champion, the epitome of goodness, the _pure of heart_.

Suddenly, Regina knows exactly what she has to do.

"Snow," she breathes, and all eyes in the room capable of seeing turn toward her, mystified by the mention of that name. But it doesn't take long for the two highly intelligent men to make the connection.

"Why, such a splendid idea!" Rumple trills after a moment, bouncing up and down merrily and giving a delighted giggle. "Besides little old me, you always were the most clever person I ever met, Regina. By recognizing and accepting that your beloved's salvation rests in the hands of your mortal enemy, you have once again reaffirmed the wisdom in choosing you over your sister."

"But will it work?" she asks, knowing that it will, but needing to hear it confirmed by an outside source.

Rumple nods. "Yes, Snow White will most certainly be able to open the gate and pass through. The question is, will she be inclined to render assistance?"

"To me? Hell no. For Red…?" Regina does not even need to think about it.

There is little Snow will not do for Red, up to and including playing nice with Regina. For pity's sake, the woman had purposefully avoided her best friend for upwards of a year after Regina and Red became a couple. The distance was certainly not because Regina demanded that Snow stop visiting Red in the tiny village that straddled the borders of their respective kingdoms. No, she had done so of her own volition because she knew Regina's disapproval put Red in an uncomfortable position and she did not want to come between them. Red's happiness came first. It is the one thing Regina and Snow have always been in agreement about.

"For Red," she then adds, "Snow would follow me into hell itself. She will help."

"Then I suggest you waste no time. Your lady love does not have long enough for you to dilly-dally."

"How long does she have?" Victor asks, sounding less concerned by the science behind what is happening than ever before.

"Less than a fortnight, I'd wager," Rumple tells them both, knowing Regina is asking the same question with her sharp gaze. "No doubt that means you'll rush off to Oz at the first opportunity. But you must be wary, Regina. Zelena will oppose your efforts at every step. She possesses ready means of traveling between realms and will no doubt follow you there to prevent you from obtaining the bark."

Regina snarls angrily. "Let her. She can die in the same mud she mucked about in as a child."

Rumple rolls his eyes in annoyance at her petulant response. "Do not let your pride deceive you, dearie. Zelena is not to be underestimated. In terms of mortal magicians, her raw power is unrivaled. Had she taken to my training, she could have become the greatest human sorceress to live since the great Morgan Le Fey. And in her own world, she will act with impunity, for it bows at her feet."

"Well, I will neither bow to her nor will I fear her. I fear only one thing: losing my wife. Nothing else matters to me besides saving Red. If I die in the process, I have lost nothing, for if I fail and she perishes from this curse, I have no intention of sticking around to mourn her. I will crush my own heart after I see to it that she is properly laid to rest."

"Regina!" Victor protests, but Regina holds up her hand to forestall his complaints.

"You won't repeat that to anyone, Victor," she says. "No one can ever discover how vital she is to me. She is already an all-too-enticing target for my enemies. I will not risk giving them even more reason to lash out against me through her. So you, my dear Doctor, will keep your mouth shut or else you'll be deprived the use of it altogether. Do you understand me?"

"Yes," he replies through thinned lips. She raises a brow. "Yes, my Queen, I understand," he corrects, almost tersely. "Although I'd point out you already admitted that vulnerability to an enemy."

Victor is unhappy with her, she can tell, but she doesn't care. She meant what she had said and is fully prepared to make good on her intentions. Thankfully, so long as Red lives there is no reason to dwell on such morbid thoughts.

"True," she says, "but he won't say anything because his silence will be part of our deal. Isn't that right, Rumple?" Turning her eyes on Rumplestiltskin, she finds him eyeing her in a way he never has before, as if he is seeing her for the first time all over again. "What are you staring at?"

For a moment, he says nothing, just studies her with those discomfiting eyes that are able to discern so much more than they should. But then he shakes his head. "Nothing. Just surprised is all. Never thought I'd see the day the Evil Queen loved someone more than herself."

Regina straightens her back and runs a hand down the sides of her dress down past her hips. "The Evil Queen would not. But I am not her anymore. I haven't been in a long time. I'm just the Queen now, just Regina – I have left that miserable wretch behind for good. I lost myself once because of you and my mother, but never again, Rumple. _Never again!_ I will live out the rest of my life with Red at my side or I will join her in the grave. I refuse to entertain any other options. Now, tell me you agree not to speak of this as part of our arrangement."

"Very well. I agree," he says, seeming to accept her terms. Regina wonders why he'd done so without argument, but at the same time dismisses her concerns in favor the crisis at hand. Rumple was a problem for another day. And besides that, in all the time she's known him, he's never broken a deal. Never.

"Excellent." Regina gives him a curt nod, then clasps her hands behind her back. Her eyes narrow into slits. "Now, before we part ways, there is one final matter we must discuss. I am curious as to what your reasons were for rescuing Jefferson from Wonderland?"

Rumple levels her with a reptilian smile. "Heard about that, did you?" He glances Victor through sharply narrowed ophidian eyes, causing the Doctor to shift uncomfortably.

"Of course I did," Regina says, drawing his attention back. "You can imagine why I am concerned about this considering my...complicated history with the Hatter."

Rumple dismisses her concern much as she had Victor's earlier, with an idle wave of the hand. "Oh, _pish posh_. There's no reason to worry, dearie. I only retrieved our mutual acquaintance because I am hunting for a particularly elusive fairy who can help me locate someone else – someone I've been searching for a very long time."

Through a medium she doesn't wish to reveal to him for their own safety, Regina has been let in on the very old secret as to whom the Dark One is looking for. Though in the interest of keeping this vital deal in tact, she decides not to pursue the information further. If Rumple is after his long lost son, his attention will be elsewhere, thus she has no reason to get involved. Or to care at all really. Especially if he's going to be teaming up with a fairy. She would rather spoon her own eyes out than spend a single second in the presence of one of the loathsome gnats.

She gives a disaffected sigh. "Well, then, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I will require Jefferson's help to get to Oz. I can't have you whisking him away the second you leave."

"Again, your fretting is pointless," says Rumple. "I've already got what I needed from him. He's all yours."

Regina claps her hands, as glad to a potential problem has been averted as she is to be rid of her old teacher. "Splendid. I suppose that satisfies my curiosity. I'm done with you now."

Unused to being so casually dismissed, Rumple stares at her for a long space, his own curiosity piqued. Regina meets his eyes, unwilling to give in an inch. She has got what she wanted from him without having to sacrifice her soul. That's a win in her book, and one she isn't willing to have stolen out from under her by entertaining the sly imp for any longer than is necessary. Best to get him the hell out and get along with the business of saving Red. For all their sakes.

"In that case, I wish you luck with your endeavor," he says, apparently having made no headway with whatever conundrum was rolling around in his warped brain. "Just remember, this favor was a one time gift. Should the occasion arise that you require my assistance again, it will cost you. Dearly."

"That's perfectly fine with me," she returns, smiling sardonically, "because I hope to never see you again. For my part, this is goodbye between us. Our business is concluded. Never return to my kingdom, and in return I give you my word that I will leave you and your little maid to do...whatever it is you two get up to in that dank, creepy dungeon you call a castle." She shudders for show, causing Rumple's brow to furl in offense.

He takes a few seconds to mull over her offer, but being the pragmatist that he is, settles quickly upon the most efficient and beneficial decision. She is effectively giving him unchecked reign in territories that do not fall under her sovereignty, and that is a deal too good for the Dark One to pass up.

"I accept," he says, and then conjures a scroll on which to etch their contract into perpetuity. Not one to be outdone, Regina beats him to the punch by summoning her own, and then with a wave of her hand, draws up a concise agreement without the fine print that tends to tilt all contracts into Rumplestiltskin's favor. When she presents it to him, he takes it without a word, appearing almost proud at her for having got the better of him one last time. He signs the document and then returns it with a flourish. "Well, I suppose this is goodbye then."

"Yes, it is," she says without emotion as she magicks a copy of the signed contract. As she presents it to Rumple, she is internally screaming at him to leave. Time is wasting and she has no affection left for the man. However much she had once trusted him and relied upon him, looked up to him even, his machinations have proven themselves to be wholly selfish. She does not believe for a moment that he ever felt any genuine affection for her beyond her usefulness as a pawn subject to his insidious designs. Now she is simply returning the favor. And it feels so damn good that her lips curl up smugly. "Goodbye, Rumplestiltskin. May we never meet again."

He tilts his head, serpentine eyes gleaming mysteriously. "Farewell, Your Majesty." And then in a puff of purple smoke, he vanishes, gone – she hopes – from her life forever. It is a monumental weight lifted off of her chest.

After rolling up the contract, which she knows he is incapable of breaking lest he find some unforeseen loophole, she passes it to Victor. "See that this finds its way to the Royal Archives and then send for Snow White. Tell her she is to travel here immediately and that she and her companions will have safe passage into the citadel. Tell her it's urgent, that Red's life is at stake and she is not to dilly dally. Dispatch one of the ravens, it will find her swiftly and she will not refuse a message from any creature with feathers and wings."

Victor does not hesitate to accept her orders. "Right away, my Queen."

Swallowing her pride has never been one of Regina's strong suits, and she's not about to start accustoming herself to the taste of it now. All the same, as the door slams shut behind Victor and she stumbles on shaky legs back to her wife's bedside, she chokes down the acrid bile that fills the column of her throat.

Snow White. It just has to be Snow White. Really, if the situation weren't so dire, she might laugh herself sick at the height of irony she now finds herself confronting. Once again, so many years and murder attempts later, she is going to have to trust that insufferable blabbermouth with the life of her True Love. The universe truly is devoid of compassion. That, or it simply hates her with a fervor that defies quantification. She cannot quite decide which, not that it matters when what is most important to her is lying here inert, being slowly drained by a pernicious curse that ought instead to be afflicting her.

Regina glances down at Red, eyes flooding with tears for what seems like the thousandth time in the past few hours. Her feeling of persecution seems so trivial in the light of an innocent such as Red being condemned to such an unnaturally cruel fate. If Snow's help, loathsome at it is, can help deliver the cure to spare Red from an eternity of suffering, who is she to deny it? Or even abhor it? Though it may rend her heart to pieces and test her self-control to the breaking point, she will do what she once swore she never would. She will let Snow White back into her life.

"I promise, my love, I will save you," she says, then lowers herself down to resume her perch at Red's hip. She takes her Queen's hand and peppers a series of kisses against the back, fingers, and knuckles. "No matter what I have to do, no matter who I have to trust, no matter who I have to beg. No matter who I have to kill. I will fix this. I won't give up until I'm dead or you're awake. I swear it on my love for you, and that's the highest thing I possess upon which to base an oath."

In one final gesture of devotion, she leans across Red's body and gives her one final kiss. She can't know, but as she pours her love into it, she hopes with all her might that Red has heard her. In her heart, she believes she did and that Red won't give up either. She has to keep fighting. She has to hold on. The alternative is unthinkable.


	14. The Burning Room

**Standard Disclaimer** : These lovely characters ain't mine, I just play with them gently. Please don't sue me. The mistakes are mine, though.

* * *

 **Chapter 13** – The Burning Room

" _I won't give up until I'm dead or you're awake. I swear it on my love for you..._ "

Red awakens with a hoarse gasp.

As awareness returns, she dimly notices that she is completely engulfed in flames so high that they lick at the charred ceiling above. Everything is burning, including her lower extremities, yet she remains miraculously unharmed. No blisters form upon her pristine skin, her eyes remain free of debris, and her lungs function perfectly in spite of the searing smoke flooding them with each breath. It's so odd and horrifying and fascinating that she stares blankly at the flickering orange and yellow lights painting the ceiling until sensation abruptly returns.

A scream tears loose from her throat as she tries to move, desperate for liberation from the searing torment engulfing the lower half of her body. Only her limbs are unresponsive as if she's been paralyzed from the neck down. A prisoner in her own body, she is trapped in a terrifying hell she can't even begin to describe. Even the pain of being mauled by two packs of rabid wolves cannot compare to the unrelenting agony of being burned alive.

 _Is this how Regina's victims felt?_ The disturbing thought only sends her spiraling further into the grips of a panic that has seized her muscles and clogged her pores and dulled her ability to soundly reason.

Meanwhile the roaring inferno drowns out nearly all sound save the words she'd heard that jolted her from slumber. They echo around the chamber until the garbled voice starts to become more and more distinct. Recognition dawns, and with it renewed a surge of hysteria.

"Regina! _Regina_!"

A burst of white hot flames lick up her legs as she shouts for her wife who is begging her to hold on, to not give up, to keep fighting. No matter how hard she tries, Red can't quite remember what she's supposed to be fighting against. All she can feel is a blistering torment she imagines might resemble how it would feel to be tossed headlong into a swelling volcano about to empty its molten rage upon some poor, unsuspecting village. It is so intense that her heart is hammering against her ribs with a force that could crush a stone and she can hear the hot blood rushing through her veins.

Screaming in spite of the fiery ash saturating her throat and lungs, she makes a second, more concerted effort to move. Still nothing happens. Again and again she struggles to force her limbs to obey until she's openly weeping and begging for their compliance. They stubbornly refuse every increasingly desperate command. Hopelessness settles into her chest, taking up residence alongside the unending pain consuming her from the waist down.

She is nearly on the verge of passing out when she feels the ghost of a kiss against her lips, so achingly familiar, so tender and loving, that it cannot be mistaken. _Regina_. And just like that her limbs are loosed from whatever was holding them captive. At last free to move, she wastes no time scrambling away from the ring of fire hemming in her in. Miraculously, once she's made it to safety, the flames licking up her legs evaporate into harmless puffs of cloudy white mist. The pain recedes and she can breathe again without a raging inferno invading her lungs.

Slowly, her senses realign and with their return comes clarity. They had been so askew from the bone piercing agony that she's not quite sure how she managed to scurry the ten feet she covered before collapsing breathless onto her back. Relief so palpable she can almost taste it washes over her as the scorching agony coating her legs subsides to a sharp discomfort and then eventually dulls into a muted ache. Her chest heaves to draw in air, huge gulping mouthfuls that have her soon coughing roughly as her body tries to expel the red hot debris congesting her airway. Before long, she's curled up on her side hacking uncontrollably.

Once the fit ends and some measure of awareness returns, she shuffles onto her left hip into a half-seated, half-reclined position. Left arm propping her torso up, she surveys her surroundings. The ring of fire circling her is hedged in by an even larger flaming wall that divides what seems to be a spacious room. Vaulted cathedral ceilings cap the space, of artistry that she imagines would be unparalleled were it not obscured by roiling clouds of smoke and thick layers of soot. Currently, she's occupying the center of one side with around another ten feet of space all around between her and the three walls she has access to. Well, would have access to if there wasn't an impassable inferno barricading her from reaching them. Strange as it is, she finds herself longing to have something to lean against now that she knows she can't have it.

Regina also remains frustratingly out of reach. As the pain subsided, so too did her wife's voice, which has faded to the point Red can no longer make out what is being said. It's as if the more conscious she is in this place, the further away Regina gets. Panic gnaws at her throat as several questions flood her brain all at once.

 _Where is this place? What, exactly, is this place? For that matter, when is this place? And most importantly, how the hell did I get here?_

No answers are kind enough to present themselves, not that Red expected anything different. She's always had to do things the hard way, and now she's landed herself in a pickle yet again. Sort of like that time some years back she'd taken on that humongous, unruly grizzly that was getting a little too presumptuous around the local village.

The residents call the place Longmeer after its gruff founder. It's a cozy little place she likes to frequent on her occasional roving excursions during Wolf's Time. It reminds her of her youth spent in Perrault and helps to keep her grounded in her roots. Most of the townsfolk know her by name now, and for more than how she successfully lobbied Regina for some infrastructure upgrades to be made in her hometown. Before relocating further west, Granny was the last of countless generations stretching at least five hundred years to be born there. Naturally, the granddaughter she'd raised all by herself who became their new Queen is somewhat of a celebrity.

Red likes the attention, honestly, if only because she knows these people, especially the most poor among them, are working an angle she can actually appreciate. The nobles back at court all want to curry favor with her to get on Regina's good side, but the residents of Longmeer fawn over her because they see her as a symbol of hope. She is living breathing representation that upward mobility in a society designed to maintain the status quo is actually possible. In her they see a chance, however faint, that they won't have to remain confined to their assigned social strata or mired in poverty for the rest of their lives.

Since marrying Regina, Red has tried her best to fight for the plight of her folk at every opportunity. She likes to think she's made a difference, however marginal, though at first she was convinced she was beating her head against an unforgiving wall. Regina was sympathetic to her cause although by and large the nobles were not. Resources, Regina explained as patiently and kindly as she could, are finite and often scarce, which is why those who keep the wheels of industry and power greased get the lion's share. That is the harsh reality of how kingdoms operate to stay afloat in a world where unremitting chaos is always one natural disaster or famine or disease or war away. The peasantry props up the merchant class which fuels the nobility that supports the monarchy. The monarchy, in turn, exists for the expressed purpose to secure the stability of a realm both internally and externally against forces that would seek to tear it apart. That truth was a bitter pill for Red to swallow that went down with a large heap of bile. She still struggles at times reconciling herself to the fact that her greater duty as a monarch is often directly at odds with or has to come at the expense of the hard working, salt of the earth peoples from whence she emerged.

The villagers in Longmeer do not seem to begrudge her this frustrating conflict of interest. They often take time out of their busy days when she visits just to tell her that her efforts are not as futile as they seem. She is actually doing some good for them. In the five years since she was crowned, taxes have been cut by a third and the percentage of their products allocated to the crown has been slashed in half. Municipal services have been improved across the board and many of the rough and tumble roads in the region – if they could be called that, most of them are hardly more than poorly carved footpaths – have been significantly upgraded.

Progress is being made. It's just not enough for her. Were it possible, she would give those people the riches of the whole world. To that end, she occasionally laments to them over the slogging forward momentum, and that she wishes she could do so much more than her annoyingly persistent lobbying that achieves relatively small gains. There are, of course, those malcontents who see her as a derelict disappointment who is squandering a golden opportunity to bust up the traditions that keep peasants poor and nobles rich. But most never hold those perceived failures against her. On the contrary, they seem truly grateful that even a fraction of their burdens have been alleviated. That gratitude, more than anything, is why Red keeps going back. She needs a reminder every now and again that there are people out there for whom a little means a lot.

The nobles at the palace are in every way the opposite. They engorge themselves on every available consumable resource from clothing to precious metals to food while everyone else lives hand to mouth. It sickens her to the point she attends functions out of spite for the sole purpose of teaching them a lesson she is well aware won't take. When the Queen only partakes of measly portions, many of the nobles will follow suit merely to save face, not wanting to show up their monarch in front of their peers. So that's what she does. And as satisfying as it is to watch the overly privileged, overly rotund pricks nibble on broccoli and asparagus, it's difficult to deny herself when she eats like a horse on a good day. At least in Longmeer she doesn't have to feel bad about her healthy appetite since she pays for her enormous meals with gold from her own pocket. And at least Regina doesn't try to shame or chastise her over such infantile behavior.

To her credit, over the course of their marriage Regina has shown increasing receptiveness to the plight of the commoners.

" _It's the curse of being married to one_ ," she'll say whenever someone points it out, often Red herself. " _And I'm happy to bear it._ "

Anyway, to get back on topic, Red was a right mess after driving that ravenous grizzly away from Longmeer. Her snout was dripping blood from a well-placed swipe of a fat paw sporting claws the size of human fingers, her hind leg was missing a hunk of meat at the hip, and her neck sported several puncture wounds the size of massive canines. Honestly, if her wolf form hadn't been growing since she fell in love with Regina, she probably would've been killed in the encounter. As it was, she passed out before she could reach the safety of the village, where she could then return to two legs for emergency triage. The villagers also knew _what_ she was and would have been more than glad to nurse her back to an ambulatory state so she could get back home before Regina lost her shit.

Unfortunately, she didn't make it that far. When she woke up, hurting all over and groggy like she'd downed an entire keg of ale, she was still in the woods and had been missing for an entire day. Thankfully, her crazy fast healing kept her from exsanguinating on the cold forest floor dozens of miles away from home. As it was, she limped into town and hitched a ride with a friend she'd made, a rascal with a heart of gold named Flynn Rider.

Gods, Regina was unhappy about that incident. For so, so long. She ranted and raved until that bulging vein in her forehead looked like it was about to burst. Since this wasn't the first time something like this happened, she sequestered Red to the castle for three interminable weeks. The only reason Red didn't fight the dictate was because she felt she'd earned the extreme punishment. Regina is a strong woman, the strongest Red has ever known, but she couldn't hide how terrified she'd been. For three days after Red limped home, she refused herself the release of sleep in favor of making sure Red kept breathing through the night. And for at least a week more she refused to let Red out of her sight longer than five minutes.

But this current predicament? This is far, far worse. Not only does Red have no earthly idea where she is, but she knows instinctively that she is trapped someplace that is unnatural and from which she likely will never be rescued by conventional means. Magic has her clamped within it's greedy iron vice, and it will never let her go of its own volition. She can feel the corrosive power in her bones and smell the tempestuous energies in the sulfuric air.

Sulfuric air. Something about that particular phrase has the back of her mind tingling with familiarity, as if she's encountered the scent before. And then it hits her. The witch. The garrison's destruction. Robin's death. Regina's palpable anxiety over the month that followed. Her own fear over the threats that had been so spectacularly leveled against her wife. Who will protect Regina without her there?

Suddenly the gravity of the situation slams into her like a runaway carriage. She has to get out of here. Right now! She has to! It's a matter of life and death. Not for her but for Regina, and that makes the situation all the more dire and her panic all the more acute.

Heedless of the danger, Red springs toward the circle of flame, only to reel back when it flares upward twice as hot as before. So hot that she can feel her eyebrows singe as she approaches. Her skin starts burning before she can get close enough to touch it.

With a cry of pain, she flails back, falling hard on her ass. She lays there, motionless, unable to move, as if all of her energy has suddenly been drained out of her in one fell swoop. She laughs bitterly as a lonely tear carves a winding path down her soot-matted cheek. A crazy woman is trying to kill her wife, slaughter their people and destroy their kingdom, and she's stuck here in hell with no discernible avenue to freedom. Regina is going to die and there's nothing she can do about it. The realization sucks what little strength remains in her right out.

Fear begins crawling up the length of her body in the absence of her vitality. It slowly clambers up an inch at a time until settling menacingly over her chest. She can almost see it, as if the magic of this place gives her vision into the nether where invisible monsters reside. Monsters with dripping fangs and beady eyes and talons that can pierce flesh without leaving a mark. Dread, it's faithful companion, follows behind, equally as gruesome, and Hopelessness the most terrible manifestation of them all joins the fray not long after. Beasts of no name they are that exist solely to torment their victims, and Red is their latest quarry.

Helpless to fight again their vicious, unremitting assault, she surrenders to despair. She cries and cries and cries, drawing little consolation that there is no one to hear the miserable sounds that wrench free from her lips with every breath. Her sole companion is the seemingly infinite inferno imprisoning her. The harsh licking of the flames provide a sinister accent to her suffering, as if they are feeding upon the anguish pouring out of her in great heaving torrential waves.

How long she remains mired in a dejection that clings to her like a second skin, she can't begin to fathom. Time in this place has no meaning that she can ascertain. There are no windows through which to judge the position of the sun, nor is there a nifty mechanical time piece handy like Geppetto makes for her to consult. The magic here has all of her senses out of whack, so that even her normally reliable internal clock has been rendered useless.

What she does know is that her throat, already ravaged by the smoke she's inhaled, is a track of burning raw flesh. Her eyes are so dry that it hurts to blink. Lips parched and cracked are lanced by jolts of pain with every minute movement. The incessant crackling of the flame wall irritates her sensitive ears and exacerbates the dull, pervasive ache that has taken up residence inside her head. Her hair is greasy and unkempt and disgusting, and she feels in general as if she hasn't bathed in months.

And then for the first time she recognizes a knot curling deep in her stomach, which is craving water and food that does not exist here, nor does she imagine there to be any available outside this hellish place. Unquenchable thirst and insatiable hunger only deepens her misery. With no relief in sight, she dreads the coming hours. At least she might not be crying again any time in the near future – a macabre fringe benefit to her state of dehydration if there ever was one.

Idly, she wonders if there is any outside of which to speak. One thing is certain, with magic at play, anything is possible. It's just as likely that the chamber is located in the middle of one of the lush rainforests she's read about in Regina's books as it is that it's suspended in some sort of phantom dimension between the physical and spiritual. The latter possibility is one she could never have imagined to be real had she not personally witnessed Regina hide things in such an invisible pocket. Only small items could be stored with that particular spell, as the energy requirements to form more than a tiny breach into the plane between life and death are more than any single magician can muster. If that is where this place is, whoever constructed it had to have been either powerful beyond imagining or part of a much larger group of magic users. A coven, or two or three, of witches perhaps. Whatever the case, she isn't keen on meeting the person or persons responsible. Werewolf or not, she'd be mincemeat in the face of such a formidable foe.

Exhausted from her fit of self-indulgent sorrow, Red curls up into a fetal position on the floor, squeezes her eyes shut, and begs for unconsciousness to claim her. Sadly, it refuses to oblige. Yet another torturous aspect to her confinement, it seems, is an inability to sleep. Will she be forced to stay awake forever here with no reprieve from the suffering? If so, her initial assessment of her unenviable predicament seems woefully optimistic. Still, stubborn as she is, she continues to try, if for no other reason than she has nothing better to do. Passing the time within the familiar confines of her own mind seems a viable alternative at the moment to staring blankly into the dancing flames.

Hours pass. Maybe. Maybe it's minutes. She cannot be certain here. All she knows is that she has run through a dozen scenarios involving Regina unsuccessfully confronting the warped witch who has it in for her, each of them more grotesquely detailed than the last. If she does ever make it out of here, will Regina still be alive to greet her?

Abject terror grips her heart. Unbeknownst to her, that paralyzing fear for Regina's safety will join the unending conflagration that surrounds her as a second, ever-faithful companion. In a place from which there is no escape, it seems to her a fate worse than death.


	15. A Gnarled Olive Branch

**Standard Disclaimer** : These lovely characters ain't mine, I just play with them gently. Please don't sue me. The mistakes are mine, though.

* * *

 **Chapter 14** – A Gnarled Olive Branch

Snow White and her procession of brain-addled sycophants arrive at the Dark Palace to the blares of trumpets and the cheers of scores of citizens assembled at the gates of the lower citadel. The overly effusive greeting was organized and deployed at the request of the Council of Nobles, who insisted a royal welcome was appropriate to visiting monarchs, one of whom was once the Crown Princess of the realm. Regina only permitted the committee being formed for Red's sake. Buttering up Snow with unearned accolades and warm enthusiasm upon her first visit to the castle since she was exiled might help grease the cogs of securing her help to save Red's life. Sure as Regina was that Snow would agree out of love for Red alone, she was not about to take any chances. If saving Red's life meant enduring the brat being so joyfully embraced by the citizenry as if a returning hero, then so be it.

That does not mean, however, that she is in any way enjoying this repugnant charade.

With her lips curling into a reflexive sneer, Regina watches the column of half a dozen carriages and a contingent of armed guards pass through the gates from the balcony attached to her chambers. She has the best view in the Citadel from here, save those upon the ramparts, atop the very same railing she had once tumbled over to a sure death. Leaning against the railing just as she was then, she cannot help but be drawn back to that fateful moment so many years ago. Only Tinker Bell's miraculous appearance saved her life, although the interference had not been appreciated. Death, even if accidental, would have meant an end to her daily suffering. The bumbling misadventure that followed did nothing to improve her generally low opinion of the fairy race.

How stupid did Tinker Bell think she was? The ignoramus was a self-confessed novice out to prove herself to her superiors by finding an abused, broken woman's soul mate. It was a recipe for disaster if ever there was one. And then the mentally deficient insect had the audacity to expect she would believe some random burly man with a lion tattoo drunkenly carousing with his comrades in a dirty tavern was supposed to be her soulmate? Did the idiot do no research whatsoever about her before initiating contact? It was no secret she preferred a tall, athletic aesthetic and a thoughtful, studious personality, which Daniel epitomized. Not only that, by then she was heartily disinterested in romanticism. Her wedding night alone all but cured her of such vapid sentimentality. No, she had most certainly not been searching for anyone to rescue her, not to mention some random ruffian who looked like he hadn't seen the inside of a bathtub in months.

Back then, all that gave her life meaning was contemplating revenge. Specifically upon the nauseatingly saccharine saint arrayed in white currently striding through the adoring crowds of former subjects. Snow was eating up the attention like a peacock having completed a successful mating dance.

For reasons beyond her subjects' uncomfortably warm reception of their former princess, Regina's lips curl with disgust as she whirls away from the scene unfolding down below. Forsaking her chambers, she makes her way into the throne room where she will wait to greet her highfalutin guests. No doubt, the royal visitors be less than cordial, which suits her perfectly fine. She has every intention of returning the favor.

One unbearably long week and three days have gone by since she sent a missive to the White Kingdom informing Snow of the calamity that necessitated her to travel to Misthaven.

 _Did the moron not read the part where Red's life is hanging in the balance? Clearly not. The brat simply had to arrive fashionably late..._

Hatred of her old enemy flares back up at the thought. Snow could have been here days ago. Instead, she took her sweet, precious time organizing a retinue to accompany her. Like always, Snow's comfort was of preeminent consideration. Perhaps the survival of her best friend is not so important after all for her have to been so lax in arranging transport.

Unlike the Charmings, Regina has not been idle in the interim. The morning after Rumple's visit, she arranged another raven to be dispatched for Mulan with a sealed letter recounting recent tragic events and which also immediately recalled her to the citadel. With Regina on the verge of leaving the Enchanted Forest for Oz, the General would be most needed here where Red would require increased protection in her absence. There were also reasons for the recall beyond her upcoming departure.

Reports of suspicious activity have picked up over the last few days from the lowland regions butting up to the unplumbed depths of the Infinite Forest. The dense, nearly impenetrable woodland set in a valley between four kingdoms – Misthaven to the southwest, the White Kingdom to the northeast, Beowulf's mostly tribal realm to the northwest, and Drakkenhall to the southeast – provides an excellent staging ground for clandestine forces, especially if rumors of the ancient tunnels networking beneath the area have any basis to them. Then there is Mulan's last report from the border with Drakkenhall, which indicated nebulous bands of troops congregating too close to the border for comfort, all wearing colors that did not belong to Stefan's land. It is becoming increasingly clear to Regina that Zelena has used the lull after the attack on Red to covertly move her chess pieces into position. Checkmate is imminent, and with it the possible threat of invasion has evolved into an eventuality.

Since it had taken two weeks of more or less casual travel for Mulan to reach the southern garrison and at last half that would be consumed on a return journey that emphasized haste over comfort, Regina sent word via another raven yesterday morning advising the Supreme Commander of her armed forces to run her horse to death if needs be. Accounting for the travel time of the bird that relayed the first missive, Mulan would not arrive for some days yet, which is more than worrying. The tide of war is inexorably cresting, a lumbering behemoth roused from decades of hibernation that will wash away everything in its path, a pall of impending misery and death rolling in with it. Unfortunately, Regina cannot afford to tarry on her best soldier. She will be leaving for Oz the very second she secures Snow's agreement to accompany her.

That said, Regina hopes she is wrong and that Mulan's loyal steed with canter through the gates of the citadel at any moment. If her gut inclination that armies will soon be on the move, sieges undertaken, and mass bloodshed unleashed upon the kingdom, it is imperative that Mulan be present to organize the defense of the citadel. The time for striking out preemptively has come and gone. The only moves left are to hunker down inside the citadel and wait for the afield armies to answer the call to return to the capital. Without Mulan here to ensure resistance within the citadel remains unbroken long enough for that to happen, the chances of repelling the initial assault plummet drastically. Furthermore, if the citadel were to fall with Regina in Oz, Mulan's intimate knowledge of escape routes only the royal couple are privy to key to preventing Red from being taken captive by the invading forces, who would then hold her ransom upon Regina's return from Oz. Or, her morbidly pessimistic side points out, they would do much worse.

Both possibilities send a frisson of cold fear down the whole length of Regina's spine. Not for the first time, she second guesses her decision to leave Misthaven – and Red – behind for Oz. If only there were another choice, she would abandon her plans immediately and focus all of her attention on keeping Red safe from right here within the comfortable, secure walls of their home. But that would mean leaving her wife to the ravages of a curse that will eventually kill her, and that is a conclusion Regina cannot permit to happen, no matter the cost to her kingdom. This is one time in her life, and hopefully it will be the last, that she is going to have to entrust safeguarding what is most precious to her in all the world to others instead of ensuring it herself. It makes her sick to do so, but there is no acceptable alternative than to journey to Oz with Snow. Retrieving the bark with which she can craft a potion to counteract the reagent Zelena added to her curse is the only viable method to save Red. So that's exactly what she is going to do.

To that end, she also paid a reluctant but necessary visit to her old acquaintance Jefferson. It took a hefty sum of gold to secure his services, along with an oath sworn on Daniel's grave that she would not betray him as she did in Wonderland. Difficult as it was to accept such distasteful terms, she reminded herself it was a worthwhile surrender if she wanted to save her wife. For Red, she would have given up much more, even plucked out her own heart from her chest as collateral if he had so demanded. In the end, he agreed to ferry her and Snow from Oz and back with his unique magical hat, which was ultimately all that mattered.

Thankfully Jefferson was in a mildly accommodating mood thanks to his daughter's upcoming birthday and ambitious desire for a pony to call her own. He could have demanded so much more and instead settled for relatively paltry rewards to make his little girl happy.

 _Count your gift horses_ , Red would say in a similar situation, _and don't look your blessings in the mouth._

The silly woman does so love to purposefully mix metaphors simply as a way to needle highly refined and educated sensibilities. Funny thing is, there isn't much Regina wouldn't give to hear such odious vernacular right now. All of Red's most terrible habits and irritating quirks have become exceedingly precious now that she isn't around to showcase them at the worst possible moment. Better the mixed metaphors, colloquial idioms, and less than stellar table manners than to endure a single day more than is necessary without those lovely imperfections. A lifetime of quirky frustration with Red is far preferable to an hour of impeccable decorum without her. It's just sad a tragedy of this magnitude was the catalyst to recognize that.

Now, she is lounging upon her throne, elbow on the armrest and her chin resting upon a closed fist with her mind divided. The upcoming confrontation with her most bitter enemy is at odds with continual fretting over her beloved wife.

Red's condition has degenerated noticeably since first succumbing to the sleeping curse. Her fever has gotten progressively worse, so that of late her cheeks are persistently flushed scarlet and hot to the touch. Regina is now having to take turns with Iris – and Marian when she is able, which is not often with her overloaded plate having to run a busy tavern and mother a six year old boy who is almost always on the run all by herself – to regularly bath Red and change the bed sheets due to how heavily she is perspiring. If it's even possible, her limbs have also stiffened as if her muscles are slowly, inexorably contracting with the premature onset of rigor mortis. The strain on her joints is extreme enough now that they will utter an occasional pop or crack of protest at the constant abuse they are made to endure. The most intolerable part of the curse, though, is the deafening stillness.

Red has only ever been ill in a human sense thrice in the seven years she has lived in the palace. Two of those instances were little more than day-long bouts of sniffles and some light coughing courtesy of a mild case of the common cold. The worst incidence was the first, and it coincided with a sudden rash of wolf attacks in the eastern forests of the kingdom. Being the self-sacrificial hero that she is, Red volunteered to take care of it. Since her wolf persona is perfectly capable of overpowering an entire pack of rabid wolves, Regina had thought the request perfectly reasonable. She'd given permission without a second thought, assuming Red could handle the slavering beasts with ease.

When her wife limped home days later, the gravity of that mistake became obvious. Red was an absolute wreck. Her clothes were tattered and the visible skin of her neck and forearms were lined with long, ragged gashes that were still weeping through hastily applied bandages. After Regina had a fit over the wounds and healed the worst of them, Red sheepishly admitted she might should have done a little more investigative leg work before rushing in headlong to confront the menacing threat. It turned out to not just be one feral pack, but two exceptionally large ones that both jumped her at once.

" _I barely made it out alive_ , _but they're taken care of,_ " Red had then said, her eyes imploring Regina not to overreact. To Regina's credit she hadn't much more than sucked in a harsh breath through gritted teeth. It wasn't the first time, nor was it the last, she had to play nursemaid after her partner's alter ego bit off more than she could chew.

All that night, Red trembled in her arms as if freezing all the while her skin was a furnace set ablaze. Red always ran a little hot, but nothing approaching that level of frightening intensity. The next morning Regina was awakened to Red launching out of bed, pale as a sheet as she scurried away to the washroom to vomit. Regina had rushed after her ailing partner, tense and worried, but determined to help however she could. Her anxiety morphed into outright panic when the illness did not slack up for more than five minutes over the course of an hour. By that time, Red was nearly hysterical, sobbing desperately and begging Regina for help she wasn't sure how to give. At her wits end, Regina was forced to use magic to render her unconscious so that she could consult with the newly employed Dr. Frankenstein. Thankfully, Victor swiftly developed an effective herbal treatment for the vomiting or else tempers might have flared out of control.

During the entire week Red was abed warring against a myriad of infections, she was half-delirious when awake and thrashed violently in her sleep. She became inordinately afraid of water, even when it was in the form of a dampened cloth meant to assuage her feverish skin. In all of that time, Red was never still for more than half an hour, and by the time it was over, Regina was absolutely exhausted.

Up until that time, she had never seen Red in such serious condition due to an infection. Even the particularly virulent strains of flu that swept through the land every handful of years did not seem to touch her. But it turned out that bites from rabid animals affected her whereas other more human diseases did not. The ancient magic of werewolves coursing through her veins made her resistant to full blown rabies, but the virus is so pernicious and resilient that it gave her hearty system a run for its money in purging it. The result was an acute affliction that so terrorized Regina that she spent the next six full moons as little more than a bundle of frazzled nerves precariously edging her wits end.

The Curse, however. presents an entirely alien form of infirmity. The fever is the only similarity to natural afflictions, otherwise, the symptoms are altogether unnatural. Because the mind is completely disconnected from the body by magic, the victim simply lays there motionless, dead and yet alive. Honestly, she would much prefer to be dealing with another bout of the rabies virus attacking Red's hearty immune system than her sister's insidious curse. At least then she could do something productive to project a semblance of usefulness. At least then, Red would be somewhat aware of what was going on around her, would be able to respond to questions and hold short conversations to relay her symptoms so Victor could attempt to treat them. At least then, Red would be moving, as she should be considering her youth and vitality.

Under the thrall of this magical ailment, she does not so much as twitch. Not even a toe or a finger or a subtle ripple in the striated muscles of her lips. Red is never so calm. Even when she's reading a book, something is in motion. She should be a blur of perpetual movement and frenetic energy that can barely be contained within her lithe frame. Instead she just lies there, inert, a human log felled in a forest of stone. It's fundamentally wrong, and terrifies Regina beyond any capability of coherent expression.

What's worse, though, is that Red's suffering is not confined to her body. Far away from the present reality, her spirit is trapped in some hellish dimension that Regina cannot penetrate even with the most powerful magic in all of the cosmos. Somehow, her own personal living hell feels less preferable to that. Bearing this torture alone is intolerable. Though a stout woman of iron will, her ability to cope without being rent asunder is taxed by remaining in that dreary room for more than five minutes. Nevertheless, she forces herself to endure knowing that if she were in a similar situation, Red could not be forcibly pried away from her side.

Heaving a tired breath, Regina turns her eyes up to the grand doors of the throne room just in time to watch them be thrown wide open rather rudely. Her eyebrow arches out of reflex and her body stiffens with anticipation.

"What's the meaning of this Regina?" Snow asks immediately upon thundering into the throne room. Striding ardently forward, her resplendent white gown billows behind her as she marches, face stony and demanding. "I got your message. Where is Red? What's happened to her?"

Charming trails behind his wife wearing a similar expression. Following him is the Widow Lucas – better known as Granny, Red's grandmother. There is a stormy look upon the old woman's face that spells trouble. Ordinarily Regina would bristle at the elder Lucas' blatant albeit unspoken accusations, but for now she ignores her only living in-law in favor of glowering at Snow.

The young monarch is as impertinent as ever, and the show of impudence summons images of flaying her from head to toe with a dull, rusty knife. Being rendered impotent to raise Red from the curse has her persistently striving against old defense mechanisms that want to rear their ugly heads. Foremost among them at present is the urge to murder Snow White. Fortunately, practicing restraint for Red's sake has taught her how to wear a mask that is impenetrable to all but a select few, none of whom are present.

Externally, she schools her features and rises fluidly from her throne. After smoothing down her skirts, she descends the dais and heads toward the thick, gilded oaken doors separating the throne room from the rest of the castle. She purposefully ignores her visitors every bit as rudely as they had intruded upon her thoughts without so much as a knock.

"Come with me," she orders as she strides down the lush, violet carpeted pathway she'd had installed along with it's matching drapes and cushions less than six weeks ago. A lavish present from the Marquis of Carabas, a new noble Red had personally championed for reasons Regina still is unsure of.

Rather than argue, Snow wisely falls in behind her with Charming and Granny in tow. Regina leads them out and then through the maze of hallways toward the Royal Quarters. Whether due to being overcome with memories of her childhood or she is simply afraid of setting Regina off, Snow does not speak. Regina is grateful for the silence, as the slightest provocation might trigger an eruption of her already swelling temper. Her patience is thin enough as is. She does not need Snow to add further stress upon her overly taxed coping mechanisms with inane babble or worse – barbed accusations. Though there is an unspoken and uneasily maintained truce between them, truces are not treaties and therefore can be broken at any time.

It takes some minutes for Regina to navigate the party to the final corridor of the castle's Royal Wing and to the bedchambers where her most distinguished guests stay during diplomatic visits. The second they enter the room where Red is being kept, Snow shoulders past her with a strangled cry.

"Oh, gods! Red!" She rushes over to the bed and falls on her knees beside it, her hand immediately clutching Red's unnaturally pale one. "Red? Red, can you hear me, honey?" When no answers come, she shakes Red by the shoulder several times, increasingly hard with each failed attempt to rouse her unconscious friend. "Red? Wake up! Wake up, Red!" Again, Red does not stir, and immediately Snow whirls around on Regina, glaring hatefully. "What have you done to her?"

Regina opens her mouth to berate Snow for such an unforgivable assumption only to be cut short by a violent slap. She stumbles back, hand going immediately to the sharply stinging flesh of her cheek. With her mouth gaping open in shock more so than pain, she nonetheless feels tears welling up in her eyes as she meets those steely blue eyes of the woman who had raised Red.

"I told you what would happen if anything ever happened to my granddaughter. Be thankful I settled for that," Granny says, voice hard as granite. The old woman's expression is colder than the one she'd worn during the whole of her first visit to the Dark Palace five months prior to her granddaughter's wedding. That hadn't been a pleasant time for Regina. The Widow Lucas is a formidable woman and excessively suspicious. Apparently everything Regina does is part of some nefarious scheme. "Now answer Snow's question before I really get upset," Granny growls, her eyes briefly flashing a muted amber.

Although Regina does not retaliate physically out of respect for her wife, had the circumstances been even slightly more dire, she probably would have done something regrettable. At the very least, she would have answered the slap with one of her own. Tit for tat has always been a motto she conducted herself by.

As it is, she channels her fury into her words. "What have I done?" The rhetorical question hangs in the air as she holds her throbbing cheek, casting furious eyes over the faces of her accusers. However justified the blame being heaped upon her shoulders may be, there is a subtextual questioning of her relationship with Red behind them that has always been present.

This bunch has never accepted her where Red is concerned. Several times they have plainly expressed their disapproval for her and have even gone so far as to levy threats that she'd mostly laughed away. Aside from those from Red's grandmother, that is. Regina had taken to heart the old woman's promise to send a crossbow bolt straight through her forehead should Red come to harm. A slap in the face is a far cry from that lethal measure, for which she is not about to complain. At the same time, she has been nice enough to endure their disapproval for far too long.

Fed up with everyone blaming her for something beyond her control, she relinquishes her iron grip on her temper. "I should have you all arrested and flogged for the audacity to suggest I am a party to this... _atrocity_ ," she sneers, fixing each of them with a withering glare. "But for her sake, I'll tell you what I've done instead. I have been loving her and caring for her for seven years! It was I who nursed her back to health when she got so sick she was abed for an entire week. Where were you then, Snow?"

At that Snow ducks her head, cheeks flaming with shame because she'd been away from her kingdom with Charming at the time. Regina had sent for Snow at Red's request via courier only for the messenger to return with word that the royal couple were unavailable. Apparently they had taken off on a silly, extravagant, totally unnecessary jaunt about the realm in celebration of the anniversary of their ascent to power, and were not expected back another week. The absence of Red's oldest friend had been a welcome relief to Regina, but she'd been infuriated just the same because of how crestfallen Red became after receiving the news. To this day, Regina remains convinced the melancholy Red sunk into that day prolonged the sickness afflicting her.

Indignation levels rising, Regina then levels Charming and Granny with equally deadly glares. "And how about the rest of you? You all claim to love her so much, but where were you?" Regina knew they knew that she knew where they were but wanted so badly to rub their noses in their failure that she could not refrain from pressing the issue. "I had messages sent at Red's request and am quite certain they reached your castle. Even after you returned from your _Grand Tour_ , no reply was sent and no visit was made. Why?" When no one pipes up, Regina's face grows hot. The vein in her forehead began to pulse prominently. "Answer me!"

Charming flushes much as his wife did at Regina's pointed questioning, though he bravely maintains eye contact. Granny, on the other hand, continues staring at Regina, not afraid in the slightest, although she is clearly concerned by the outburst.

 _As well she should be_ , Regina thinks. She has been operating on a fragile thread of control since Red was struck down and is finally ready to snap. To prevent that from happening, she channels her frustration into castigating the selfishness and ignorance of this insular group of so-called heroes who refuse to see her for who she is rather than for who she once was. Is the Evil Queen all she'll ever be to these people?

"How dare you question my love for her!" she continues ranting, and begins pacing back and forth like a caged tigress. "Over and over again, I have proven myself where she is concerned. I have sacrificed for her and taken risks for her that compromised the integrity of my very crown! Against all advice and the protestations of my councilors, I married her and elevated her to a position of power second only to me. Because of that, a faction of disgruntled nobles conspired against me, simply because I dared to wed a peasant who just so happened to also be a woman. Did you know that they staged a coup and attempted to assassinate me in broad daylight?"

Although none of them answer, she can deduce by their body language they were ignorant of the attempt. It isn't all that surprising considering she retaliated expeditiously and with exaggerated brutality. And for reasons besides the obvious that all apostates deserved to burn.

"Of course you didn't," she plows forward, "because _she_ saved my life by stepping in front of me and taking the blow. None of you sat with her through the night as she languished abed, wracked with so much pain that she groaned and whined in her sleep. But I was. I couldn't sleep for her discomfort, not that I would have anyway for the paralyzing fear that she'd stop breathing if I closed my eyes even for a second. I alone nursed her back to health, and to the detriment of the kingdom's affairs. I changed her bandages, bathed her, and fed her when she was too weak to even lift her head from the pillow.

"And who, do you suppose, was responsible for punishing those traitors? Hmm? Who was it that publicly put them to the torch and then watched their blackened ashes smolder for daring to lay a hand on her? That was _me_. I did that. _I_ defended her from her many detractors, and _I_ avenged her upon those who harmed her. And where were you all, her so called family, when all of this was happening?"

She stops pacing in front of Granny, and points an accusing finger at the unflinching woman, veins in her neck and forehead throbbing. "I'll tell you where you were, Eugenia," she grits out, knowing how much Granny hates being referred to by her given name, which is almost as much as Red hates being referred to by hers. "You were sitting in your cabin darning socks and plucking chicken feathers! And you have the...the absolute _temerity..._ to come into my home and strike me for a crime I did not commit?"

"I'm an old woman, Your Majesty," Granny retorts, brazenly unapologetic. The old goat always was more like Regina than she'd care to admit, which is why she thinks Granny hates her so much. "I see things simple. My granddaughter lives with a monster and she got hurt because of it. That arithmetic adds up to the monster ultimately being the one responsible. You don't lock a child up in a room with a rabid dog, else they get bit, and that's exactly what I assumed happened. Hell, woman, the only reason you're all in a tizzy in the first place is because you already blame yourself."

"Perhaps I do," Regina replies tightly, unwilling and unable to refute that harsh truth. "But are you any better than me making such unfounded assumptions?"

That quietens Granny, and she frowns deeply. Satisfied with the small victory, Regina whirls on her former enemy. Snow gapes, looking fearful and shocked at her tirade.

"As for you, the venerable Snow White, let me enlighten you since you seem to have gone mute," Regina plows ahead. "During the time you were off gallivanting the countryside with your family, I was taking care of _mine_."

Almost shaking with anger, Regina moves to the end of the bed and turns so that she can face down her accusers, the so-called good guys who would just as soon blame her for all their ills rather than hear the hard truth.

"Red is _my_ wife," she tells them. "She is _my_ family! Mine. Mine. _Mine_ _!_ I love her more than anything and anyone, and that is certainly more than I can say for any of you. I would just as soon endure a thousand bites of an Agrabah viper than to willfully cause her even one insignificant injury. So how _dare_ you all come into my home throwing about such baseless accusations!" By the end of her rant, Regina is panting and crimson-faced, and Snow is visibly petrified.

Standing tentatively, Snow extends her hands out slightly in a show of apology. "Listen, Regina, I..." She gulps, and then looks away for a brief moment before turning back. "I know that I've missed a lot these past few years, and I know that you love her. I really do. But I was...am very scared for her, so I jumped to the wrong conclusions. I shouldn't have done that. I apologize."

Regina straightens, brushes her hands down her sides and nods her grudging acceptance, though she can still feel the vein in her forehead throbbing due to her indignation. The thought of anyone doubting her love for Red turns her stomach, makes her crazed with anger in a way that reminds her of the deranged lunatic she became after Daniel's death. She is not ignorant of the gossip that goes on in secret about her relationship with Red. People still whisper to their friends just out of earshot that Red is merely a figurehead, a pretty face and a desirable body to warm the Queen's bed and a kind heart to make Regina look better in the eyes of the people. Such idle speculation is infuriating and causes her question how people can remain willfully ignorant to how much she has changed and grown as a person. And it makes her wonder why they can't see the depths of her love for Red by how far she is willing to go to both to promote and to protect her.

Wasn't it enough that she gave up half of her authority to a girl who never asked for such a gesture? Because Red never once aspired to be made Queen. She had not pestered Regina into marriage, nor had she brought it up in conversation through subtle comments or gently probing remarks. Instead, Red was insistent that she was happy for things to remain as they were. She could endure so long she knew Regina loved her and it was her at Regina's side rather than some superficial prince or duke or king in an empty suit with an empty heart and an empty brain. It is precisely because of that willingness to set aside her own precious dreams of marrying her True Love that Regina was willing to make such a huge concession.

She has already proven her resolve to do whatever is necessary to protect her wife, her Queen...the very embodiment of all of her happiness in life. Killing for Red is not a novel concept, as was proven by her response to the minor noble rebellion that almost cost Red her life. There have been other times as well that assassins have targeted Red as a means to gain leverage over Regina or to goad her into making a bad decision based on her more primal instincts. Unsuccessful though the attempts were, they were all put to the sword or the torch. In her eyes, there is no room for mercy to those who try to take away what belongs to her.

She is especially vicious in her reprisals because, to her, Red is the only living person in the world _worth_ avenging. In that way, she has not changed, and never will. Her edges may have smoothed out due to Red's influence, but no matter how much she has evolved as a human being, she is still willing to employ whatever means necessary to get the job done. As such, she is more than willing to kill again. It just so happens that her own sister seems to be the next victim in line.

So while Snow may vehemently disagree with the methods and may doubt her intentions, she is determined to follow through on her promise to Zelena.

When Regina tightly nods her acceptance, Snow turns her attention back to Red and picks up Red's hand once more to cradle it protectively between her own. "What happened to her?"

The sorrowful tint to Snow's voice deflates Regina like a balloon whose knot has been abruptly untied. Her anger ebbs out of her as she realizes that she has overreacted to Snow's overreaction, and neither is conducive to helping Red.

"Unbeknownst to me, my mother had a child before she married my father. A girl," she tells Snow, ignoring the gasp from the diminutive yet impressive woman at her wife's bedside. "Surprise! My half-sister hates me and wants to make me suffer for the injustices in her life, whatever those are. This," she gestures angrily toward Red, "is how she intends to do it." She glances at Snow's husband whose hand is still on the pommel of his sword. "You ought to be happy about this turning of the tables, Charming. My True Love has been put under a sleeping curse, and unlike your own experience with my curse, this one can't even be broken by True Love's kiss."

Snow blinks several times as she processes what Regina has told her. Charming remains equally as confounded.

"You have a sister?" Snow finally asks, brows furrowed. "Red is cursed the same way I was, just this curse cannot be broken with True Love's kiss? Did I hear all of that right?"

Regina rolls her eyes in exasperation. "Yes. You heard correctly – for the most part."

"How do you know True Love's kiss won't work?" Granny poses, silver brow raised.

Regina draws in a shaky breath, eyes finding Red's face as she lets it out in a whoosh. "Because I kissed her and she remains asleep," she says, memories of that burst of magic washing over her, flooding her with mixed emotions.

The ecstasy of knowing what she and Red share is indeed True Love is soured by Zelena's subsequent revelations of the futility in her effort to wake her cursed spouse. The tragedy of it all hits her in the gut, and she has a hard time restraining the urge to scream or sob or plead to the gods for mercy or some awfully embarrassing combination of all three. She does so only because she refuses to show any of these people how much pain she is in.

"Because you don't have True Love," Charming says, injecting his patented brand of unhelpful stupidity into the equation. "If you did, Red would be awake."

"Oh, but we do," she asserts, fixing him with a pointed glare. "Red is undeniably my True Love. When I kissed her, the magic such an act produces burst out from both of us, only she remained asleep. It was only after my sister decided to rub my failure in my face that I was made to understand. This particular curse was constructed to be resistant to all forms of magic. Nothing magical can break it. Not a counter-spell, not a magical key, not an antidote, and not..."

"True Love's kiss," Snow interrupts, looking absolutely crushed "Oh, Regina. I'm so sorry!"

"I don't want your pity!" Regina retorts, then gestures bitterly toward Red. "I want you to help me fix this."

"But how?" Snow asks, shimmering tears pooling at her eyelids as she clutches Red's hand as if that alone is anchoring Red to life. "If True Love's kiss cannot break this curse then all hope is lost."

That statement slams into Regina's chest like a stampede of wild stallions. She has never heard Snow White so despondent, and the sound of her defeat is supremely disconcerting. Snow is supposed to be the hopeful one, the one that keeps a chipper, we-can-do-it attitude no matter how calamitous the circumstances. She is not supposed to give up on the woman who once saved her life and then taught her how to survive until she could stand on her own two feet in a world that was suddenly not offering up everything to her on a silver platter. Hearing Snow concede Red's fate as lost is simply unacceptable.

"Appearances can be deceiving. There is hope yet," she says, trying not to sound overly harsh. She knows that Snow is dismayed at Red's state and the apparent lack of options with which to reverse it. "My sister's heinous intent was, unfortunately for her, accompanied by hubris. She let it slip where the ingredient originates she used to make the curse unbreakable."

"How does that help?" Charming interjects.

Regina groans at the man's idiocy. "If you could have listened two seconds further, I would have told you." Ignoring her judgment of him, he gestures for her to continue. "As I was saying -" she draws out, eyeing Charming critically. He frowns. "The ingredient is derived from a tree that grows in the mountains of Oz that ring the Emerald City. I have spoken to an...expert in such matters, and he assures me that the antidote can be crafted of the bark of the same tree. I possess the necessary skill to make it, but unfortunately I am unqualified to retrieve the ingredient." She turns her attention onto Snow suddenly. "And that is why I have asked you here. I require your help."

"Me?" Snow asks, touching her chest reflexively.

"Yes, you," Regina replies, and Snow's wince alerts her to the fact she had been more harsh than she intended. "There is a gate that protects the grove the tree grows in, and only the pure of heart can open it."

"Which obviously eliminates you," Charming throws a pointed jab that picks at a sore scab on Regina's conscience.

Her inability to wake Red is hard enough to process without adding on her being unable to retrieve the ingredient necessary to craft an antidote. She starts to advance on the boorish simpleton, ready to thrash him for his unwarranted provocation, but is stopped by his wife's preemptive intervention.

"Charming! That was unnecessary," Snow chides.

Regina is surprised to hear her former enemy come to her defense. If the shoe was on the other foot, she would not have done the same. But that is part of Snow's nature, part of what makes her qualified to open the gates that will soon stand between Regina and her means of saving Red. Snow is ever willing to expend herself in the defense of those for whom she cares, even when those same people have done her such grievous harm as Regina has.

"Maybe. But it's true," Charming counters his wife's objection.

When Snow opens her mouth to respond, Regina stops her with a raising of her hand. "He's right. I am not an option to open the gate. However," she points at Snow, smirking, "you are."

"No way," Charming growls. "Absolutely not. Snow is not going to Oz. Certainly not with _you._ "

At that, Snow stiffens and then rises to her full height. Face beet red with indignation, she grits out at her husband, "You may be my husband, Charming, but you are not the ruler of me. I make my own decisions. Red is my friend, my _sister._ If there is anything I can do to save her, I will." Turning to Regina, she nods curtly. "I'll go with you. When do we leave?"

"Snow..." Charming begins to protest.

"Enough!" Snow erupts, voice reverberating through the room.

Charming startles back at hearing his normally soft-spoken wife raise her voice at him. Regina relishes in the moment. It's not often she gets to bear witness to a wrinkle in the perfect couple's fabled relationship, and it delights her to no end to know that even the Charmings are not without their disagreements.

"I love you, honey, but this is not your choice. It's mine and I've made it. I'm going. There is nothing more to discuss."

"But what about Emma?" he counters, looking and sounding a tad bit desperate.

"Don't you see?" Snow replies, gesticulating passionately with her hands. "This is about Emma just as much as it is about Red. How can I look our daughter in the eye knowing that I'm unwilling to risk everything for those I love? She needs to know that there are more important things to consider than power, or social status, or wealth. All riches and kingdoms and authorities be damned! I would be dead if Red had not been there for me when I needed her most. She taught me how to survive, how to be a capable woman and not a silly, privileged little girl in over her head in every single way imaginable. For that alone I owe her more than I can ever repay. And besides that, she is worth the risk to me. When Emma grows up, that is the kind of person I want her to be. We are nothing if we are not willing to stake everything sacred to us – our lives, our fortunes, and our honor – for our friends."

Charming deflates, and it is evident that Snow has won the argument. Whatever objections he has, it seems that he shares in his wife's desire to raise their daughter to be the same kind of moral champion that they are reputed to be. It is a slightly sickening thought that another royal of their naive ilk will succeed them. People like the Charmings believe that good always triumphs over evil and that doing the right thing is always the right thing to do. They believe maintaining these virtues no matter the dire circumstance will be rewarded by the universe.

Regina can hardly hold in an acerbic response to their nauseating gullibility. The world is complex and gray in her experience, and the young Emma would be better off being taught pragmatism rather than unsophisticated optimism. But she is not Emma's mother, and furthermore has no vested interest in how Snow and Charming raise their daughter. All she cares about is getting Snow's help to save Red, and if some argument eschewing the necessity of maintaining their moral superiority for young Emma's sake will help secure that, then she is all for it.

"Fine," he says a moment later, and then shoots Regina with a warning glare. "But I swear if you hurt her..."

"It's not me you should worry about," Regina interrupts, ignoring his empty and futile threats. "Had I genuinely desired Snow's demise, I could have seen to it long ago. Red was right about that." She then levels her own threatening glare at the two monarchs, hardly able to believe her willingness to speak the words she is about to. "And I will deny this to my dying breath should any of you repeat it, but my insistence that I wanted you dead was a cover, a farce, a lie to tell myself so that I wouldn't have to face reality. A part of me always knew that everything bad that happened to me was due to my mother, but I loved her too much to reconcile what she had done with my need for her approval. There was a time that I would have killed you if the opportunity presented itself, but my main objective was always to ensure you suffered as I had. In retrospect, I can now see that I've accomplished that. For what it's worth and in the light of that, I consider my vendetta against you to be over."

For a moment, Snow looks mystified by the confession, and Charming equally shocked, but then Snow begins to beam like the sun has finally peaked out from beneath an unending stream of black and stormy clouds. Regina knows what that look is, and holds up her hand to prevent the saccharine sweetness that is sure to flow from Snow's mouth.

"But before you go falsely believing this wipes the slate clean, let me assure you that it does not," she clarifies, and Snow's countenance falls, but only a little. Her full face remains relentlessly pleased, and it irritates Regina to no end. "However innocent a victim you were to my mother's manipulations, Daniel died. In the aftermath, I fell victim to circumstances beyond my control that molded me into the Evil Queen. No amount of love or understanding can change that. Red's influence may have enlightened me to my misplaced hatred, but I have not changed so much as to dampen my sharp edges. And though I have relinquished my former appellative over time, I remain a Queen who cannot afford to appear weak in front of a former enemy."

She draws a deep breath and smooths a hand down her dress. "Therefore, while I am prepared to give my word that I will no longer try to kill you, I am not offering forgiveness. Do not ask for the impossible. Accept this for what it is, a formal detente, and let's get on with the business of saving someone for whom we both are willing to leave the past behind."

Even though Regina has tried to be honest with her unwillingness to forgive Snow, the woman still has the gall to look overjoyed. To her credit though, she refrains from an exuberant shout of exultation. Regina knows that Snow has longed for the day that the young woman who saved her from a runaway horse will return. That day will never come. She has endured too much tragedy to ever be that girl again. She can, however, become a better version of who she currently is, and since that is the best she can hope for, it is what she is striving for – and it is what Snow must learn to embrace.

It seems by her show of restraint that she is at least willing to respect Regina's wishes. That goes a long way towards indicating a permanent peace treaty between their kingdoms might be possible to negotiate in the near future.

Jutting her hand out into the space between their bodies, Snow gives Regina an effervescent grin that splits her prominent cheeks. "Those are terms I am more than happy to agree to, Your Majesty."

Regina is, for a brief moment, caught between wanting to breath a sigh of relief and a less savory desire to refuse Snow's hand out of sheer spite. It is strange to be both ready to bury the proverbial hatchet while also tempted to utilize Snow's proximity to end their feud in a more visceral and dishonorable way. The divergent impulses speak to how unsure she is of herself at the moment, at how tentative her state is in the transition between who she was and who she is becoming.

It feels rather like she is currently made of mortar, in that she has not yet solidified into her new mindset. While her evil proclivities still spring up occasionally, they have been for the most part relegated to a place of relative insignificance so that they are simply background radiation in her thoughts. Where she winds up on the spectrum between good and evil when the process of hardening is complete, she cannot predict. She supposes it depends on the outcome of her excursion to Oz with Snow. If Red lives, she cannot see herself ever digressing to the point where her objectionable inclinations are able to master her will. But if Red dies, there will be very little incentive to continue on her current path toward a better self. With this in mind, the vitality of this mission becomes even more pronounced.

After recovering from her bout of uncertainty, Regina accepts Snow's hand and gives it a firm, official shake. And then she goes on utter to the words she once could not have imagined contemplating, not to mention actually speaking them aloud.

"Very well, Queen Snow. We have an accord."


	16. A Goodbye Vow

**Standard Disclaimer** : These lovely characters ain't mine, I just play with them gently. Please don't sue me. The mistakes are mine, though.

* * *

 **Chapter 1** **5** – A Goodbye Vow

Regina bites back the bile rising up the column of her throat.

In extending the gnarled olive branch to Snow, she has not only abandoned a decade long crusade, but done so at Daniel's expense. Now he will never be avenged. Now, he can never rest in peace as he so deserves. Of the thousands of people she has come into personal contact with, there is only one person aside from her stable boy as worthy of both. Red. And it is for Red alone that Regina has forsaken attaining those things for Daniel. In the cold recesses of her mind where her weaker tendencies live and where reason has no foothold, she fears that wherever his soul lingers, whatever latent energy is left of him, is observing this capitulation with marked disgust.

That she is being ridiculous right now does not register against the swell of self-loathing squeezing her chest and clogging her throat. Is this how Red felt when she regained her senses only to discover the beast inside her had killed and consumed Peter? If so, Regina can imagine why Red very nearly came unglued in the aftermath of that tragedy. Failing the person one loves most is, without question, the worst feeling in the world, and this makes twice now Regina has let Daniel down. First she failed to exact vengeance upon his betrayer, the very same Snow White with whom she has now formed an alliance.

Crippling waves of acrid humiliation inflame Regina's cheeks as, still beaming, Snow returns the handshake and confirms their verbal agreement. "Agreed, Queen Regina. We have an accord."

Unwilling to maintain contact with her nemesis-turned-ally, Regina drops Snow's hand unceremoniously. To regain her composure, she reminds herself why she is doing this and that Daniel would surely understand. Gentle soul that he was, he would want her to save Red, even if that meant sacrificing his honor. Although she is not so sure he would feel the same about her sacrificing her own, as that is essentially what she is doing by parlaying with enemies she had once sworn on her honor to kill.

In the back of her mind where that cold fear lurks, she hears a voice that sounds suspiciously like Red's respond to that thought. " _Stop it, Regina,_ " it says. " _This is pointless. Torturing yourself over the past won't help you save me in the present. So get over yourself and get back down to business!_ "

Rather than examine her apparently tentative grip on sanity, Regina decides to concede to what is ultimately sound advice. Shaking off the bonds of shame that were slowly constricting her ability to think or breathe, Regina raises a sable brow at Charming, who had been most vocal about his concerns.

"Are you now satisfied about my intentions, King David?" she asks, brow arched pointedly.

Although Charming does not look convinced by the speech she gave or her offer of an unofficial peace to Snow, he does not dissent or further question her motivations. A prudent decision.

"I am for the moment," he says in a clipped tone that indicates wariness Regina can somewhat respect.

In response, Regina levels a mocking smirk at him. "Ah, but the moment is all we have, good King. It would be wise of you to embrace it." She then swirls on Granny, who is still regarding her with a narrowed, suspicious gaze. "And you? Are you satisfied that I am innocent in the matter?"

Granny swears under her breath and mutters something that sounds like, " _Gonna kill that girl for tellin' you my name_ ," before giving Regina a proper response. "Fine, I admit to being wrong about you," she hesitates and then peers at Regina over her glasses, "this time. If you can fix her like you said, then I guess I can learn to live with my granddaughter's questionable choice in a mate. But if she doesn't make it, all bets are off."

Regina does not doubt the sincerity behind those words. She has on more than one occasion surveyed the grisly product of Granny's crossbow work and knows of few individuals less likely to make idle threats. There is far more to the Widow Lucas than meets the eye. The world at large may see only an aged grandmother who, though a bit prickly, can disarm anyone with a dimpled smile and is probably the best cook and seamstress they have ever known. They have not been given the unfortunate privilege of encountering the killer instinct kept on a very tight leash. But Regina has, and she has no desire to get another glimpse. Not that she has to worry; she will never experience Granny's promise being fulfilled.

"You don't have to worry about that," she replies. "If Red dies, then it will be because I perished in the attempt to save her."

Granny nods sharply. "In that case, I'm good."

The simplicity of that statement is something that perturbs Regina for a moment. But then she considers that Granny is a simple woman who sees the world in blacks and whites and has little tolerance for the myriad grays that exist in between. To Granny, simple and straightforward math is all that matters. As long as the sum of the equation comes out to Red being alive and well, she is willing to accept any additional variables that must be factored in. In that way, Regina finds herself on common ground with her wife's grandmother for perhaps the first time.

After inclining her head in acknowledgement to Granny, Regina returns her attention to Snow. "Now, then," she says, "as for your earlier question in reference to our departure, the sooner the better. My sister will stop at nothing to prevent us from obtaining what we seek. However, she is reeling from a defeat she suffered earlier at my hand. Haste is key, I'm afraid. So if you are prepared to set out immediately, we will do so. I have already arranged transportation, and we need not carry supplies outside of whatever weapons we wish to avail ourselves of. I don't imagine us being gone more than two days, and should we encounter obstacles that delay us, I will bring along plenty of gold to purchase food or any other additional supplies we may require on the road."

The only silver lining to Snow's delayed arrival is that Regina was afforded plenty of time to plan. The first step of that process was pouring over every available resources regarding Oz. While pickings were meager, they auspiciously included a tome which featured a roughly scaled map of that realm. Thanks to Rumple, she has a good starting reference as to the location of the grove she is seeking, and were time on her side that would be enough information to set out directly in search of it upon breaching in to that world. Sadly, she is hard pressed to conclude the expedition as swiftly as is humanly possible. To that end, she figured her best bet of finding a precise location of the grove would be in the Emerald City, where detailed records of such a place should be kept. With any luck, she and Snow might even encounter someone who has seen the grove in person, thus allowing her to use an arcane technique involving probing someone's memory to derive a target for a transportation spell. This plan relied much upon luck, too much for comfort, but it was the best she could come up with considering the rigid constraints she was operating under. That Jefferson's hat portal opens up in Oz less than a day's brisk walk from the Emerald City seemed confirmation that this was the correct, and most expeditious, course of action.

A dubious look crosses Snow's face at Regina's confident assessment of their timeline. "I thought you said what we need is in Oz? How are we supposed to get there and back in two days?"

Regina smirks condescendingly. "That, my dear, is what you are about to find out."

"And what about me?" Charming injects, looking put out at not being included. "What am I supposed to do while you two are off risking your lives in another world?"

Regina wants to tell him that he can do what he normally does, which is sit on his ass and look pretty. Objectively speaking, he is quite accomplished in that regard. Instead of saying that, which she normally would, she takes the high road of necessity and offers him an objective to focus on.

"For starters, you can watch over Red. Should my sister defy my expectations and not follow us to Oz, she will eventually discover my absence. Soon thereafter she will deduce that I have discovered a cure. With me long gone to procure it, her only options will be to abduct Red as leverage or kill her outright where she lays. It will fall to you to prevent either from happening." For emphasis, she sizes Charming up with her eyes, satisfied to see him squirm under her sharp appraisal. "I'm entrusting you with with what I hold most precious in this world. Is that something you are capable of handling or shall I appoint my Knights to do so until General Mulan arrives?"

"No, no," he replies quickly, hand instinctively falling to his sword at the affront to his manhood. "I can handle that, and would do so even if you hadn't requested it. Red is my friend, too, in case you've forgotten. I swear on my life to keep her safe."

"That is a wholly appropriate oath, Shepherd," she tells him unmercifully. "Because if you should fail, I will make sure it comes to fruition."

To Regina's surprise, he does not object to her unsubtle threat, but rather nods with a measure of respect. "As well you should," he says. "You have my word as a King and a spouse that I will protect her with my life."

"Let's hope it doesn't come to that," Snow adds, looking a bit nervous over the brief showdown between Regina and her husband.

"Yes. Let's," Regina agrees, tilting her head slightly as she meets Charming's unwavering eyes. "In that case, King David, as sovereign of this realm, I hereby place the Citadel and all forces therein under your command. Deploy them as you see fit to safeguard my wife and the many people who make their abode here."

He gives a soldierly tip of the head to her that is surprising to see coming from a man raised a shepherd. "I'll see to it the second you are both away."

"I suppose you'll want me to sit around like a useless lump of do-nothing," Granny grumps, arms folded across her chest. She again peers at Regina over her glasses.

"I expect no such thing. Do whatever you please," Regina tells her irritable in-law. "You are the Queen's grandmother. As such, the staff is at your disposal. Have the run of the place if you wish, and make yourself useful in whatever way you deem appropriate. Only swear to me two things: that you will not, under any circumstances, risk your life and that you will stay with Red as often as you are able."

Granny scoffs at the notion that she'd do anything else. "I'm too old to fight unless I got no other choice. As for the other, I watched over that girl for twenty years all by myself. I can handle a day or two more, _Regina_."

Although Regina rolls her eyes, she is secretly pleased to hear Granny say her name for the first time. It is a marked improvement over the previous address, which was either a snidely spoken " _Y_ _our Majesty_ " or " _that_ _woman._ "

"Very well, _Eugenia_ ," she says, and then to Snow adds, "Do you remember how to make your way to the courtyard?"

"Of course I do," Snow replies with a scoff very similar to Granny's.

Regina gestures toward the door. "Then do so presently after you have changed into more suitable attire for our journey. You may use one of the guest rooms down the hall or your old bedroom if that's more to your tastes. Red had it restored for you not long after she moved in." Regina ignores the moon-eyes Snow makes at Red and then turns on her in recognition of her having allowed such a gesture. To Snow's dashing spouse, she says, "As for you, Charming, you'll find Captain Rodrigo in the garrison. Snow can show you where it is after she's dressed. Introduce yourself and inform him of the change in command while I'm away. I'll join you both in the courtyard shortly. I want to say goodbye to my wife before we leave. Privately."

"Okay," Snow agrees, smiling softly in overly saccharine sympathy. But before she departs as Regina instructed, she glides back over to the bed then leans over Red so that she can place a lingering kiss upon a feverish forehead. She then sits gingerly at Red's side and, once settled, gently sweeps her hand over her sweat dampened hair. Tears pool in Snow's eyes, and it is difficult for Regina to bear witness to the fathomless reserves of love and devotion for Red she sees reflected in those expressive green orbs.

Snow and Red's unbreakable friendship has always been something that Regina avoided conversing about, and not only because she preferred to not even think of Snow if at all possible. Red considers that relationship almost sacrosanct, something not to be mentioned in Regina's presence as she would invariably attempt to disparage it with cruel gibes and negative opinions. Mostly that criticism would have stemmed from pure envy.

Regina has always been and always will be a jealous woman, something Red is painfully aware of since she has been the primary object of that jealousy over the seven years they have been together. It does not take much in the way of inappropriate interest directed toward Red for her to fly off the handle. That Red is a woman of extraordinary beauty means subtle leers and tawdry comments are directed at her far too frequently. Frankly Regina has lost count of how many times she has issued threats of violence should the unwelcome and impolite behavior of certain tactless individuals continue. Of course, she only confronts the perpetrators once Red is out of earshot, not wanting to be on the receiving end of a disapproving pout or worse, a stern lecture once they are alone, from her highly sensitive and compassionate partner.

It comes as no surprise that Snow's tender, lingering kiss provokes that jealous streak to rise to the surface. Of the many diverse individuals which whom Regina has to share Red's affections, Snow is by far the most infuriating. For a moment, she considers issuing a terse warning only to bite her tongue when she hears Snow begin to speak.

"I love you, Red," Snow says, her abiding friendship and deep concern for Red reflected in her tone. "I always have and I always will. You are my most beloved friend and companion. But more than that, you're family. You're my sister in every way but blood. I'd do anything for you. You know that don't you? I hope so. And that's why I have to go with Regina to Oz. You have saved my life so many times, now it's my turn do the same for you."

She pauses to tenderly cup Red's face with both hands, thumbs gently stroking Red's cheeks.

"Regina and I are going to save you, and you know why? Because we love you too much to let you go. So you just hang on, Red. Fight to stay alive while we're away, and just know that we'll be thinking of you every single second until we get back." She then stands, picks up Red's hand and places another reverent kiss upon the unnaturally pale skin, streaked with stark blue veins, covering the back. "This is not goodbye," she then states, and Regina can tell that this is something that has been said between them many times so as to be elevated to the status of a venerated promise. "This is, ' _I'll see you soon._ '"

With that, Snow replaces Red's hand at her side, and then nods to Charming, who clutches at Red's hand briefly. It looks as if he wants to say something, but decides against it in lieu of allowing his wife's sentiment to stand for his own. After releasing Red's hand, he looks at Snow, and something unspoken passes between them that is evidence of the love they share. That ability to communicate without words is something that Regina has developed with Red over the course of their relationship. Only time can teach to those willing to learn the full intricacies of the person they love, and thus is a reward to those devoted couples who have chosen to forsake the arena of choice for that of profound commitment.

Before Red, Regina used to loathe couples who could engage in whole conversations with nary a word being verbalized between them. Now, however, she relies on that very same ability to alert Red to her needs without needing to speak, or to translate Red's needs in the same manner. In social situations where propriety must be adhered to, they often entertain themselves by giving looks that only the other can decipher and which go completely unnoticed by the oblivious nobles that surround them. Their ability to mock the pretentiousness of such individuals without alerting them to their disdain is a great source of amusement for both. Much more rewarding is the ability to convey her love with only a glance in the midst of a boring council meeting and to then read Red's equally heartfelt response in expressive green eyes that never fail to take her breath away.

The moment between Snow and Charming passes quickly, as such things are wont to do. Before Regina can even formulate a response, they have declared their intention to wait for her in the courtyard and then made their exits.

Only Granny remains, and she is staring at Red in a way that is disquieting. She looks so defeated, a woman suddenly feeling every last one of her seventy-one years. Regina cannot tell if it is due to a belief that the efforts to save Red will fail or because Granny feels as guilty for failing her granddaughter as Regina does for failing her wife. Either way, the troubled look does not remain long before resolve replaces it. In three firm strides, Granny moves over to the bedside and then ducks down to kiss Red's brow.

"You get better, you hear?" Regina hears Granny say as she hovers over Red. "I love you, Red. I know I don't tell you enough, and I know I've been hard on you for the choices you've made, but it's just because I care so damn much about you. You're all I've got in this ole, godsforsaken world. So do what Snow said. Keep fighting, girl. For me. Hell, for _that woman_ , even. Whatever it takes. Just keep fighting. Don't you dare give up. 'Cause if you do, grown woman or not, I'll hunt your ass down in the Underworld and put you over my knee. Got it? Good." She then pats Red on the hand, turns to give Regina a curt nod, and then leaves the room.

At last alone, Regina takes a solidifying breath and then crosses over to her the bed. After perching in the same spot Snow had previously occupied, she leans over Red's body, supporting herself with her arm extended to brace on the bed at Red's opposite side. Tilting her head to the side, she bites her lip as she sifts her fingers through Red's thick curls, damp with sweat, but still somehow silky and voluminous.

Her obsession with Red's hair is something she has never kept secret. She delights herself by braiding it whenever Red is amenable to sitting still for five or ten minutes. Over the years, she has learned to create many complicated designs via experimentation. Although Red's patience is intermittent, she never fails to praise Regina's handiwork and then show if off to every lady in court. To repay the frequent indulgences, every night before bed she coaxes Red to sit at the vanity or upon their bed facing away so she can brush a hundred strokes through the luxurious mane she envies almost as much as she loves. It isn't at all uncommon for Red to fall asleep under the deliberate and careful ministrations, which is brings a satisfaction unto itself. Knowing how good and relaxing the attention is for Red makes the effort all the more gratifying.

As she sits there brushing her hand through her wife's hair, Regina momentarily frets over whether or not she will ever get to do so again. Or if she'll ever get to feel Red's body slump against hers as she succumbs to exhaustion from another long day of courtly duties or outdoor adventures. Those simple pleasures have come to mean the world to her, and the thought of never again sharing them with Red is yet another reinforcement of just how much she has to lose should the upcoming quest fail.

Choked with emotion, Regina bites back her tears, not wanting her parting from Red to be fraught with sorrow. Instead, she sucks in a reinforcing breath and then pours her heart out.

"You are going to make it," she begins. "You _have_ to make it. I won't allow that demented witch, my sister or not, to take you away from me." She leans in closer, pressing her forehead against Red's, staring at her wife's closed eyelids and imagining that a familiar soulful gaze is being returned. Against all rational thought, she fancies that Red can hear her words and that they will give her the strength to – as Snow implored her to do – hold on until the antidote can be crafted.

"I once thought that I would never love another after Daniel and was sure it was impossible to ever equal what I felt for him," she then declares, baring herself for Red in a way she will for no one else. She doesn't trust anyone else with the innermost parts of her being. They are still tender from having survived her mother and Leopold and Rumplestilskin's individual but concerted efforts to turn her into a living statue, devoid of feeling and conscience, beholden only to power. It is a miracle that even a tiny portion of her innocence persisted through their abuses. But it did, somehow, only to begin flowering once more solely due to the painstaking care Red has invested into her.

"I was wrong. One bitterly cold day on a remote mountain pass, I met you and everything changed. That day you saw past the facade I had erected to hide myself from the world. In the months that followed, you awakened things in me that had long been dead. You brought me back to life, restored in me a hope for the future I'd believed to be eradicated, and for that I owe you _everything_. I loved Daniel, Red. I loved him so much. But what I felt for him cannot compare with what I feel for you."

She reaches up with her free hand and cups Red's feverish cheek, rubbing her thumb in delicate strokes over chapped lips, feeling so full of emotion that she is ready to burst. Letting it color her words, she repeats her vows from the day they wed, hoping they will anchor Red to this world as they do for her.

"I love you with all of my heart and all of my soul," she starts, remembering every line she'd written and memorized and repeated for everyone present to hear. As the Queen, she had spoken her vows last, making them binding, and just as she'd meant them then, so does she mean them now.

Her vows had caused quite the stir among the nobility in the weeks and months after the wedding, which was not at all surprising to Regina due to the open objections many of them had confronted her with. Not only was she breaking the unwritten rules of royalty by marrying a peasant with no wealth whatsoever and who was a bastard child that did not even know her father's identity, but she was also marrying another woman. Strangely enough, the nobles were less concerned about the taboo nature of the relationship than they were that Red was a peasant.

Marrying her, they'd insisted, would weaken the kingdom because it would open Regina up to criticism of her suitability to rule. Marrying non-nobles was a cardinal sin for monarchs, as such could be interpreted as an alienation of their peers in denying a royal or some other lofty lord or lady the opportunity at the throne. The nobility is an insular, myopic group that loathed outsiders and ostracized all rebels audacious enough to attempt introducing an outsider into their circle. Red, being everything that disgusts them – namely a woman, a werewolf, and worst of all a peasant – was the ultimate outsider. By marrying her, Regina was openly declaring her contempt for their deeply held convictions, ancient traditions, and sacred bloodlines.

She had known all of this going in but remained undaunted. She harbored no doubts in her decision to make Red her wife and co-ruler. To ensure everyone was aware of where she stood on the issue, she invited every monarch, influential noble, and respected dignitary for a hundred miles around to the wedding. Any suggestion of a boring, stuffy, traditional ceremony as would be expected of her station was patently refused. Instead, she replaced the high cleric with a local friar Red often enjoyed sharing a pint with, wore a dress ostentatious enough to make every eye bulge, and wrote her own vows. So that the latter was a surprise, she let her betrothed speak the traditional vows of their kingdom, which Red did with an eloquence and grace that shined through despite how visibly nervous she was.

But when it came time to speak her own vows, Regina had opened with an emphatic announcement that there were some traditions that died with the king, and that it was high time to bury them once and for all. To that end, she'd made sure to speak boldly and without shame in an intensely personal declaration of love that was highly inappropriate for a Queen to be publicly sharing. The speaking of her vows, while divisive and controversial to this day, were the finest moment of her rule, a sentiment with which many – her father included – wholeheartedly agreed.

"Before the gods, the kingdom, and these witnesses," she continued repeating her vows, "I, Queen Regina of Misthaven, both now and in the future, pledge myself to you, Red Lucas, also of Misthaven. Everything I am and everything I can be is yours. As earnest I offer to you not only equality in authority, in fortune, and in title, but also in our home and in our bed. Freely and in perpetuity do I bestow these, asking only that you love me in return. Your love is all I will ever need. For as you are happy, I am happy. As you despair, I despair. As you laugh and cry and dance and sing, so shall I.

"Moreover, I hereby bind my very existence with yours. I shall live by your life, and I shall die by your death. So long as we live, it will be my most sacred duty to love you without reservation, and whatever lies beyond this mortal plane, if there be any existence for us, it will be my love for you that will translate me there. Should I precede you to the grave, I will wait for you patiently, longing simply to hold you once more. But if you precede me, I will join you each night in my dreams until at last I breathe my last breath, and from thence take flight on celestial wings to unite with you in and for eternity.

"You are my joy, my strength, my equal in all things, and my very beating heart. You are my happy ending, Red Lucas, and to prove that to you, I hereby grant you half of my kingdom, which is less in value than the half of my very essence that already belongs to you. It is, and shall ever be, my greatest privilege to be your wife. So let all the kingdom hail, from town to country, from valley to mountain top, and from earth to the heavens above, that there is a new Queen in Misthaven. Prosperous may her reign be," the next line she spoke with emphasis to each word, willing the gods themselves to hear that they may honor it, " _and long may she live_."

With that, Regina seals their lips together. A promise rings inside her heart that the next time she kisses Red, it will be to break the Curse for good.


	17. A Merry Old Land

**Standard Disclaimer** : These lovely characters ain't mine, I just play with them gently. Please don't sue me. The mistakes are mine, though.

* * *

 **Chapter 16** – A Merry Old Land

Before joining Snow and Charming in the courtyard, Regina stops by her bedroom to take her own advice and change out of her formal attire. In Oz, mobility and infiltration will be key, which means dressing down in plain yet flexible riding leathers of the sort she wears during Wolf's Time while taking Miguel, her beloved steed Rocinante's son, out for a run with Red. Coming home caked with dirt from head to toe on their first such outing had taught her a valuable lesson about selection of attire when on such an excursion.

Red loves to play every bit as much on four legs as two, so she had enthusiastically persuaded Regina to leave the dry safety of her mount several times to frolic through the woods like a couple of hormonal youths. Intermittent rains over the previous week had turned the forest floor into a muddy soup of limbs and leaves, making footing unsure while making an awful mess of her knee high boots and custom embroidered breeches. Needless to say, the fancy leathers she'd worn that day were all but ruined by the time the sun got low on the horizon. The fun they had did not prevent her from being a bit peeved about the destruction of what were very expensive garments. She remembers quite clearly how she had sniped at Red the entire way back to the castle, blaming her for the sartorial catastrophe. How silly she had behaved over something so inconsequential.

Upon entering the bedroom, her eyes immediately fall to the bed, which has remained unoccupied since she stumbled out of it days earlier. Since waking from the energy-sapped coma induced by fighting her sister and remembering what happened to Red, there has been no incentive to return to this room save to do as she is at present, namely to change clothes. Bathing and sleeping has been accomplished elsewhere, as she hasn't been able to muster up enough courage to do so within the space she has so long shared with Red. In her wife's absence, she has avoided their bed altogether, having refused to even touch it, not to mention crawling beneath the covers for an entire night. Without her wife tucked in close beside her, the bed will only feel vacuous and isolated and devoid of all warmth, just as it had when Leopold was alive. And that is a something Regina never again wishes to experience.

When Red is present, she does not have to worry about such feelings. There is rarely space more than an arms breadth between their bodies at night, and despite how she used to require plenty of room to avoid feeling suffocated, even that is too much for her to bear at times. There is nothing quite like the feel of Red surrounding her with a strong embrace and that heady, naturally sweet scent that soothes away every last worry. Red's mere presence is enough to ward off most of the nightmares Regina has long suffered from and is able to settle her whirling mind, which is often beset by matters of state that are perplexing if not outright aggravating to solve. She can't imagine laying in bed without that soothing balm to coax her to sleep. No doubt if she tried, all she would do is toss and turn restlessly, and if she did get any rest at all, it would be plagued by reliving the terror of finding Red sprawled out on the bathroom floor.

In the nights that have passed since Red was stricken down, Regina has not slept very much. Her vigil at Red's bedside has kept her occupied in her downtime from ruling and when exhaustion manages to overcome her, she often curls up against her wife's side, head tucked gingerly upon a slowly rising chest. That once reliable, noble heartbeat so weak under her ears is only ever able to lull her into a fitful slumber that is over before more than two hours have passed. More than once she has fallen asleep sitting beside the bed in a chair she pulled up close while clutching Red's hand and perusing some legal or commercial or intelligence document that required immediate attention, only to gasp awake due to a paralyzing nightmare that escapes recollection upon her return to awareness. Most of the time, she simply forces herself to stay awake and has survived up til this point on those inadequate cat naps.

Lack of sleep and a nearly constant tension have conspired together to push Regina to the limits of her composure. She is physically and emotionally drained, irritated, and scared out of her mind. She misses her wife with every fiber of her being. She hates her sister with the fury of a thousand burning suns. And she just wants to sleep for an entire week straight. Such a luxury, sadly, is one she cannot afford. Not until Red is safe or they are both in the grave.

Shaking herself out of her reverie, Regina meanders over to the closet. After stripping down to her undergarments and carefully hanging her dress upon a rack for Iris to store away, she twirls her back-length hair into a hasty bun and then picks out a pair of her most comfortable leathers. She shimmies into the breeches and buttons the tunic with practiced efficiency.

Dyed jet black, the garments are adorned by silver filigree about the breasts which runs down the sides of the tunic and pants alike as well as along with the edges of a high semi-circular collar. They are the ones she'd worn the first time she rode into battle at the head of her army. They are designed to be easily cleaned and to provide maximum flexibility as well as for effect. The latter is achieved by the intricacy of the filigree and the stunning amethyst gemstones she'd had attached to the shoulders, which are imbued with magic that made them glow and pulsate every time she drew on her powers. Wearing the leathers helps to bolster her energy as well as her mental defenses, for they are a reminder that she is a woman whose power stretches far beyond that which her title has bestowed upon her. She is an infamous sorceress, a warrior magician, and fear of her has sent many individuals of esteemed valor fleeing in terror.

Back straightening as she slides her hands down the front of her tunic, she preens before the mirror situated against the wall to the right of the closet. The feel of the tight but supple material against her skin is welcome after so long, and she is particularly pleased to note that they still fit perfectly. What few noble ladies she could tolerate interacting with on a regular basis had warned her that she was likely to gain weight after her marriage as they did. They had not accounted for the fact that she married a woman whose boundless stores of energy translated into frequent excursions outdoors, which incidentally afforded Regina plenty of physical activity to stay at peak fitness. And that is not to mention the high quality aerobics they practice while inside and behind closed doors. Sex with Red is often an acrobatic affair, usually characterized by lengthy exertions that leave both of them boneless and trembling as much due to the meteoric intensity of their orgasms as to them being physically expended. It really is the best form of exercise...

Now prepared for whatever may come, she abandons her chambers and quickly makes her way out of the castle. She sweeps into the courtyard feeling empowered and arrogant. While she may no longer be the Evil Queen, she is capable of equipping her former persona like a coat of proven, well-worn armor. Wrapping that dark, unflinching resolve around her body and heart allows her to accomplish objectives without any of the moral or ethical considerations that might cause hesitation.

In the coming hours, she will almost certainly be facing some difficult decisions. Hell, she may have to stoop down into the dregs to get what she wants, requiring her to further stain her conscience. The woman she used to be had gleefully inhabited the wrong side of the conscientious divide and had no quandaries about acting however viciously or deplorably she must to secure her goals. And while at present she does not wish to kill if she can avoid doing so, she is not above it should the need arise. To save Red, she's ready, willing, and able to baptize Oz in an ocean of blood.

Predictably, both Snow and Charming gape as they catch sight of her state of dress, and she levels a haughty smirk in their direction. Condescension, like a neglected old friend, greets her with a welcoming smile. Jefferson, who is standing close by, seems to have no reaction at all at her arrival, which is unsurprising when he has seen her at her worst.

"Should I meet my sister again," she says to the Charmings in lieu of empty pleasantries, "perhaps she will think twice about provoking me. I am not the weakling she once believed me to be."

"No, you aren't," Snow agrees. "But isn't that getup a little too intimidating? I mean, what if we need the help of the locals but they're too afraid of you to offer it?"

Regina shrugs as if the idea is inconsequential, which to her it is. Asking anyone for help is a last resort, as exemplified by reaching out to Snow. Had anything less than Red's life been on the line, she would have gone at Zelena alone. She has always worked best that way when in pursuit of unsavory ends. Her mission now may be noble, but it is as likely as not that she will need to get her hands dirty before all is said and done. The fewer people she has to interact with, the better the chance no one other than Zelena perishes.

"That is no concern of mine, Snow," she says, a bit ruefully. "The locals will help whether they wish to or not. I will compel them if I must, and by whatever means necessary."

Snow is, of course, correct that the simple folk of Oz will take one look at her and decide she is a nightmare come to life. That said, she has ways of coercing their aid if necessary. Truth be told, she is sort of looking forward to the opportunity to take her really scary side out for a spin. Which only reinforces the wisdom in avoiding confrontation wherever possible.

"Regina…"

"Save it!" Regina's nostrils flare as she cuts off Snow's objection. "I warned you that the end of my vendetta is not an indication everything has changed. I am still the same woman who cut down swathes of her enemies in battle without mercy or remorse. With Red's life hanging in the balance, you'd best reconcile yourself to the fact that I am likely to do things on this venture you will find reprehensible. I intend to avoid extremes where possible, but make no mistake, I am prepared to bloody my hands for both our sakes so that you may remain unsullied and thereby obtain the ingredients to make that cure. All I require from you is to come along, keep your trap shut, and do as I say."

Snow frowns at the brash, heartless nature of the speech, though that is the extent of her disapproval. "Fine," she concedes, "but you should also be aware that I will do whatever I can to ensure no one is unnecessarily harmed."

Regina inclines her head in perfunctory acknowledgment poorly imitating respect, though her subsequent words are filtered through gritted teeth. "From you, I expect nothing less." With Snow's petty concerns dealt with, she turns to Charming. "Have you spoken with Captain Rodrigo?"

"I have," Charming replies, arms crossed over his chest. "As soon as you and Snow leave, I'm going to review the Citadel's defenses and organize a permanent rotating guard for the Royal Wing of the palace. I'll personally inspect the walls once I'm done with that. I got some good experience with siege warfare helping Abigail defend her realm from George."

Regina read her spies reports of that conflict with great interest. Charming conducted himself admirably, as had Snow, in helping the newly crowned Queen Abigail and her knightly consort Frederick put down George's attempted usurpation. In spite of the realm being ripe for the taking in the wake of Midas' untimely demise, the move was all the same bold, daring, and quite unexpected. She had thought that old goat was gone for good after being run off by his replacement son and his dead rival's daughter. George always was resilient, though. And ruthless. His attack on the kingdom once ruled by his brother-in-law Midas was swift and brutal. The forces he assembled in secret, away from the prying eyes of even Regina's extensive network of spies, cut a swath of indiscriminate destruction through the realm. The invasion took a straight line from the border with Stefan's kingdom – an alliance of convenience to depose their mutual enemy – to the Capital and left thousands dead. Twice as many were wounded and more above that displaced by the loss of property.

Red had not been pleased she was forbidden from throwing her lot in with her old friends. Aside from the ghastly political impropriety of a non-allied Queen joining the fray, there was no way Regina was about to risk her wife's safety over a foreign conflict. Especially considering her intelligence officers assured her the war was well in hand for the rightful regime. With gold aplenty, Midas' military was the strongest of all the realms this side of the Great Indigo Ocean. They had been caught with their pants down to be sure, but were able to rally inside the Citadel and hold out long enough for Snow and Charming to ride to the rescue. How the insufferable do-gooders managed to sneak inside that impenetrable fortress in the middle of a siege, Regina never found out. But sneak in they did, and with their counsel and the benefit of their modest forces marshaled in the forests less than three miles away, it was only a matter of time before the tides turned.

News of George's defeat reached the Dark Palace less than a week later. Red was cross for a whole month besides while Regina remained unrepentant for what Red referred to as her ' _unfair imprisonment_ _._ ' Unfair it may have been, and a form of imprisonment if viewed from a certain perspective, but Red was alive and unharmed and Regina hadn't had to spend a month straight pacing and fretting and doing sorcery just to check up on her wife every half hour. To her, that was a victory worth being proud of in and of itself.

"I'm aware of your accomplishments," she says to Charming after a brief pause. Their shady history aside, her highly detailed intelligence of that event allows her to trust his competence in military matters. He really had performed brilliantly, especially for a former shepherd. She wasn't going to tell him that, though. "As I said, whatever resources you require to keep Red safe, you have them. I do not expect to be gone long, but if you feel the need to transfer units from nearby garrisons to reinforce the Citadel, do so. Conscript the nobles and arm the peasants if you must. Just keep her alive. Also, have Rodrigo supply you with any intelligence reports on neighboring realms he deems applicable to our present…precarious situation. Stefan's in particular. I sent my top officer there because of some villages that were burned. In light of Zelena's actions, I suspect she might have been behind those attacks."

Charming rests his hand on the pommel of his sword and nods. "You just get what you need to cure Red and make sure my wife comes back alive and in one piece. I'll take care of the rest."

The former Regina would do whether he wanted her to or not. It's the latter she has a problem with. Under normal circumstances, ensuring Snow's safety would not rank high upon her list of priorities. But these are strange times where she is being forced to make distasteful compromises. To gain access to the grove wherein grows the main ingredient required to cure Zelena's sleeping curse, Snow will need to be at the very minimum alive and conscious. Not to mention what Red would say if her best friend got killed on some totally reckless, utterly irresponsible mission to save her life. Guilt would eat her alive, and Regina could only bear that thought slightly more than she could failing altogether.

With that in mind, it behooves her to protect Snow as fiercely as she will have to her own life. It will take both of them to get this done. So if she has to swallow some crow and make a promise that churns the bile in her stomach, she will do so.

 _The things I do for love_ , she thinks forlornly. Aloud, she speaks using every bit of her willpower to sound sincere. "You have my word that I will do everything in my power on both accounts. That's the best I can offer, unfortunately, as there are no guarantees in this world or any other."

"That'll just have to be enough then. Won't it?"

Charming's rhetorical is as close to acceptance she is going to get. "I suppose it will." Having satisfied the shepherd king, she whirls on Jefferson, who is anxiously kneading the brim of his famous hat between his fingers while trying to appear nonplussed. "Are you ready to do your job, Mr. Hatter?"

"I am, Your Majesty," he says with stiff formality.

She nods and then gestures toward the ground. "Then lets get on with it. I have a wife to save, a sister to kill, and precious time is wasting."

Seeing the sharp glint of steel in her eyes, Jefferson obliges without delay.

* * *

Upon arrival in Oz, Regina immediately scouts out the surroundings. The party of three have emerged at a crossroads between a major thoroughfare paved of gleaming golden bricks. The well-traveled paths that intersect leave much to be desired in comparison to the brilliance of the yellow brick road.

Meanwhile, the Emerald City lies just in the distance. A tiny, dull speck of jade to the naked eye, it is yet near enough that it can be seen shimmering faintly against the waning sunlight. There is something about it, though, that strikes Regina as odd. The light emanating from the city has an almost sickly tint to it, as if the city were suffering from some sort of metaphysical malady that seems to be prevalent everywhere she turns her eyes.

This is not the splendidly majestic Oz of lore. The tomes she had read reputed the realm to be home to mystical beings beyond the pale of those which inhabit the Enchanted. Forests and glens and mountains are said to thrive here, all of them suffused with a pulsating liveliness that energizes every pore and molecule of the world.

Instead, everything seems on the verge of death. A heavy pall permeates the air. The grass is parched, brown, and brittle, and does not so much as sway in the low breeze which Regina notes smells of acrid decay. Upon the fringes of the forest nearby, she spots rows of trees which once must have been magnificent. Wide bows, sprawling limbs, and leaves that once likely sparkled in the moonlight are now gnarled and withered as if arthritic, drawing in upon themselves and drooping mournfully under the weight of forlorn looking foliage. It is a depressing sight, and she has her suspicions as to the root cause behind this pervasive degeneration.

Still, it is well in the evening, and though the timing of their arrival is unexpected, it is nonetheless a welcomed bit of happenstance. With night soon to fall, it will be much less risky to travel the ostentatious road – beside which they now stand – that leads to their first destination. The awful state of the local flora aside, their auspicious timing has her spirits up.

Grinning with uncharacteristic optimism, Regina turns to find Snow studying her surroundings much as she had. Her fellow monarch is currently surveying for threats in the way only a practiced outlaw can with sorrowful eyes that appear excessively piteous to the general rot that has overtaken Oz. Snow always had a tender heart capable of compassion for all life forms great and small, yet her time as an outlaw has hardened her enough that she remains vigilant for any sign of threats. Regina is relieved that she has not lost that vital survival instinct after so long sitting idly upon a cushy throne. As much as Snow's pure heart is required to open the gates of the Sacred Grove, Regina is also cognizant of the usefulness presented by a bandit princess who was a renowned forager, tracker, archer, and swordswoman. Those skills will come in very handy in a land as foreboding as it is foreign.

Jefferson, however, is another story altogether. Upon arriving, he ignores their environment as he flips his hat onto his head and then crosses his arms. Steely eyes meet Regina's unflinchingly. She narrows her lids at him, annoyed at his standoffish attitude.

"Something the matter, Jefferson?" she inquires. Snow turns at the sound of her voice, fixing their third traveling companion with a curious gaze of her own.

"This is as far as I go," he answers, determined posture equaled by the sternness of his tone. "I've brought you to Oz as agreed. But I won't risk my life for you, Regina, or for your precious Queen. I have a daughter to look after who needs her father to back come home alive. To see that happens, I aim to wait here for your return."

Regina's expression turns dangerously sour. "That is unacceptable! How am I to trust that you won't abandon us the moment we're out of sight?"

"Not my problem," he shoots back, clearly thinking about how she'd left him in Wonderland.

Perhaps, she thinks, this is his plan: to pay her back for her betrayal with one of his own. It is a bold move, but even if that is not his plan and his word is genuine, she cannot afford to take a chance.

Striding forward, she plunges her hand into his chest without warning. Before he can even flinch a muscle, his heart is being ripped free from his chest to the pleasing accompaniment of his pain-filled grunt. Snow shouts a feeble protest, of course, but Regina ignores it as she snaps her fingers to summon two pouches. One she fastens to her belt once Jefferson's vibrantly thrumming heart is securely tucked inside. The other she offers to Jefferson, who is bent over at the waist, panting as he hatefully seethes at her.

"Take it," she commands, leaving no room in her tone for refusal. He does so, taking the pouch by the strap.

"What am I supposed to do with this?" he asks, voice strained with anger and pain.

She doesn't bother to answer verbally. Instead, she plunges her hand into her chest and plucks out her own heart. Unlike Jefferson, she does not keel over in pain or give any sign of distress other than a slight wince. She has done this enough that she is prepared for the pain.

What is strange, however, is how differently she feels without her heart in her chest in comparison to the other times she has experimented with removing the vital organ. Normally all of her feelings would dull, dampened by the absence of the seat of her emotions. But here in Oz, she still feels strongly, almost but not quite as if her heart were still in place. It is a strange phenomenon, and she wishes to investigate it further but lacks the time to do so.

Without preamble, she offers Jefferson her heart.

"It's for this," she then explains, extending her arm, hand out, palm up, her half-black heart throbbing inside it. She glances at it, awestruck that so much color has returned to its surface. She knows Red is responsible for this definitive recovering, and seeing the proof of that is enough to further buttress her belief that she is doing the right thing. There is no limit to what she is willing to do to save someone whose love has proven capable of healing the darkest of hearts.

"So that we may trust one another," she continues, "I shall have your heart, and you shall have mine. Mutually assured destruction will serve as guarantee that we both keep our word. When Snow and I return, I will replace them where they belong. I swear on the life of my beloved that I will honor this agreement if you will do the same."

For a moment, Jefferson stares dumbly at her, evidently having trouble processing what she has suggested and done. But then determination straightens his shoulders and he gives her an abrupt nod.

"Fine. I agree. As if I have any other choice..." And then he takes her heart from her outstretched hand.

The moment Jefferson touches her heart, Regina seizes up with trepidation. Her hand hovers at the pouch resting against her hip, magic at the ready should the Hatter's fingers flinch a little too aggressively. Her gesture of goodwill has made her incredibly vulnerable, but it was the only way she saw that would assure Jefferson's compliance without comprising the mission. Now he has no choice but to wait and to keep his word. She will feel any pressure that he applies to her heart, and she knows he is aware that she will react accordingly.

To his credit, Jefferson handles her heart with appropriate care, and places it in the pouch with easy, deliberate movements. It is only after he ties the pouch shut that Regina relaxes.

She turns to Snow, who is looking a bit shocked at the development. Snapping her fingers in front of the gaping woman's face, she raises a brow when Snow looks at her owlishly. "Now, with that taken care of, I'd like to get a move on if you don't mind." She speaks with sarcasm so that Snow is perfectly aware that she is in control and that her statement is to be taken as a command not a suggestion.

Snow nods. "Okay, yeah." Taking a breath, she moves aside to allow Regina to move past her. "Lead the way."

Regina does so, stepping off of the grass onto the yellow bricks that gleam a gorgeous hue of orange in the low light of the sun. Before starting off down the road, she glances back at Jefferson over her shoulder.

"If all goes well, we'll return within a day's time," she tells him. "Wait for us in the woods nearby."

Jefferson scoffs derisively. "Are you serious? Without weapons? What if a lion, or tiger, or bear wander by? How am I supposed to defend myself?"

"There are plenty of trees around," she smirks. "I'd suggest you pick a tall one." And with that, she sets off down the road, leaving a spluttering Jefferson to fend for himself. She laughs at his indignation and merrily makes her way toward her target, ignoring Snow's disapproval boring hotly at into back of her head. The Emerald City awaits and nothing will deter her from reaching it.

It takes five minutes for Snow to catch up to the punishing pace Regina sets, and when she does, she steps into place at her former step-mother's side. Out of the corner of her eye, Regina notices that Snow is missing her sword.

A sable brow raises. "Decided to lend the Hatter your sword, did you? I'm not sure that is the wisest choice."

"I couldn't just leave him there defenseless," Snow returns, aggravation written all over her face. "That was unnecessary, Regina."

Regina grins. "Amusing, though. Still, you may come to rue that decision should we encounter trouble."

Snow does not seem convinced. "If we do, I'll handle it the way I always do. With a well placed arrow."

Shrugging, Regina refocuses on the yellow brick road, eyes following it up to the horizon where it becomes nearly invisible as it disappears into the city. "It's your funeral." And with that, the conversation ceases.

They walk for miles with nary a word spoken between them. Snow silently vacillates between watching their flanks with keen eyes, bow never out of her hand, and stewing on her irritation at Regina leaving Jefferson unprotected. Several times she opens her mouth as if about to make some biting remark only to decide against it. Regina hopes it is because she has taken the warning posed before they departed to heart. It really is best if Snow simply keeps her trap shut. The less that brat talks, the less annoyed Regina will become, thus the less likely it will be that Snow is reduced to a pile of smoldering ashes before their trip is over.

She may well need Snow to get her into the grove, but after? Well, that's another matter entirely...


	18. An Unwilling Pawn

**A/N:** If there are any spelling errors or poorly phrased sentences/paragraphs, I apologize. I've been mailing in editing a bit of late due to investment fatigue.

 **Standard Disclaimer** : These lovely characters ain't mine, I just play with them gently. Please don't sue me. The mistakes are mine, though.

* * *

 **Chapter 17** – An Unwilling Pawn

After having traversed at least ten miles, Regina and Snow finally approach civilization. Or the facade of it anyway.

A hundred yards or so off the yellow brick road lies a hamlet about the size of Perrault – the rustic village in which Red was born. From a glance, it appears to have been deliberately constructed by planners rather than allowed to sprout up randomly as nature prefers, making it fairly unique for such an inconsequential location. Vicinity to the Emerald City must have inspired the founders to put forth more effort in organizing their settlement, or so Regina guesses. A mildly sprawling square dominates the layout, around which are arranged the main municipal building, a pedestrian market, and a modest variety of stores. Though the town lacks any buildings larger than the plain, two story municipal building, it is at least an indication of ordained governance.

Sadly, like the land it inhabits, the village reeks of decomposition. And not of the odious sort produced by flesh returning to dust but a supernatural rot that makes the hair on the back of Regina's neck stand on end. Snow does not seem a bit perturbed, however, which confirms her initial impressions of the declining state of this world. Her sister's magic appears to be corroding the very fabric of Oz. The fact that Zelena's power is so prevalent and permeating gives her a pause she lacked moments before.

Regina has seen this phenomenon before. When she fully succumbed to the temptation Rumple was offering via the dark arts, she noticed little things changing around her. The stone walls of her chambers started to stain progressively darker and on occasion a flower would wilt in the wake of an absent touch when her emotions were running exceptionally high. After Leopold's death was arranged and accomplished, the strange effects become more pronounced and widespread. And when she banished Snow and publicly embraced the evil she had thus far been practicing in secret, the entire castle began to take on a sinister gloom, as if in permanent dusk, and she could no longer visit the gardens if she was angry for fear of inadvertently killing everything alive inside.

But this? This is something on a level that Regina has never seen. At her worst, the insidious influence of her magic never extended outside the walls of the Dark Palace. Yet Zelena's are projecting miles beyond the Emerald City, the seat of power in Oz, meaning her malefic streak must run exponentially deeper and stronger than Regina could have fathomed. If so, could it be that the quest to save Red was doomed to fail from the outset?

Steeling her nerves, Regina refuses to allow that fear an inch of purchase. This mission cannot afford to be deterred, even by legitimate concerns about her sister's frighteningly influential magic.

By the time they arrive at the path veering off toward the village, the sun has noticeably dipped in the sky. They will have to hurry if they want to make the Emerald City before night falls in earnest. To get back on track, she straightens her shoulders and fixes her gaze down the meager aisle of dirt and stone connecting the village to the central thoroughfare. Before heading off in the direction of town, she does the courtesy of indicating toward Snow with her head that they should pay it a visit. Snow, bow still in hand, nods and silently follows Regina until they enter the evenly developed square, at the center of which is the village's main well.

Regina's earlier assessment that this is a civilized place is called into question upon closer inspection. A couple of townsfolk are milling about, and judging by the poor state of their dress, this area is mired in an economic depression. So close to the Emerald City, the heart of commerce in Oz, it should be a bustling hub of activity populated by relatively well-off citizens. Instead it is nearly as bleak and sluggish as the rest of Oz appears to be.

The bedraggled bystanders, obviously unused to strangers entering their village, peer at the newcomers with barely veiled suspicion.

Regina plasters on a winning smile. _Time to put on a show._

"Hello, good citizens of Oz," she greets with a flourished formality that she'd perfected by the age of ten. "I am Queen Regina of Misthaven. My companion," she gestures toward Snow, "is Queen Snow of the White Kingdom. We are here on urgent business in pursuit of information for which I am prepared to reward handsomely." With a flick of her wrist, she summons one of five large purses of gold she has brought along. After loosing the leather tie holding it shut, she opens It up to show the contents to the raggedy, gaping villagers. She smiles at them enticingly. "All of this awaits the first person bold enough to lend us their aid."

"What is you want to know?" a man says from the fringes of the square, lingering in the shadows. He takes a single step forward to reveal a young, handsome face. A patrician nose, square jaw, and sharp hazel eyes peer out from beneath a noble brow, the only blemish an inch long diagonal scar scored into his left cheek. Closely cropped brown hair, fine and impeccably pressed clothing completely out of place in the relative squalor of this village, and a gait that is the epitome of power and efficiency mark him as military. Perhaps even an officer. If that is the case, he presents a juicy target for interrogation.

Regina narrows her eyes at him. "I'm seeking knowledge of a particular place in the mountains surrounding the Emerald City. It is a grove guarded by an enchanted gate only the pure of heart may pass through."

"You're speaking of the Sacred Grove of Ozma," he says, eyeing her with as warily as she is him. "No one in this little squat of mud and despair will have set eyes upon the jade gates. The Wicked Witch has forbidden any mention of the Grove, and none are brave or idiotic enough to defy her."

Regina catches his slip, and rises to her full height. Towering over the now cowering villagers, her tone grows cold and demanding. "And yet you speak of these 'jade gates' as though you have seen them personally. I wonder, could you be lying to me? And if so, why?"

The man winces as he realizes his mistake. "Maybe I have my reasons," he offers, casting his eyes about nervously. His hand moves subtly toward his back pocket. Regina assumes he is reaching for a knife. She is proven correct when in one fluid motion he grabs it and starts to throw it at her.

Before the handle can slip free of his fingers, an arrow whizzes by her ear, brushing the bound hair at her temples at is passes by. The missile dislodges the weapon, sending it tumbling to the ground, as it pierces through the man's hand and lodging into the wooden siding of the building he was standing against. The young man screams in pain, clutching at his wrist as blood seeps from his wounded appendage. Enraged, he again snatches at another pocket with his remaining good one only to be interrupted by Snow's voice.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," the former bandit says, her voice laced with more venom than Regina has ever heard from the bastion of virtue. Snow steps forward, arrow nocked and drawn, eyes sharp and unyielding. "Just in case you're wondering, I didn't miss. That was a warning. The next one will land between your eyes."

Regina marvels at the feat of marksmanship. She'd heard Snow to be an archer of deadly accuracy from many sources, including Red, who gushed about how effortlessly Snow had taken to the weapon. Regina never imagined her to be so skilled as to pull off such a feat of accuracy on reflex. What's more impressive is that Snow actually drew blood. Normally the infuriatingly compassionate woman made sure to resolve conflict without unnecessary violence. It seems, though, that Snow is willing to bend her own rules if it means getting help to Red more expeditiously. Regina is all in favor of that attitude, and very much hopes it will continue from here on out.

Still recovering from the shock of Snow's action, she raises a brow, trying to hide her smirk but failing. "Well done, my dear. I didn't think you had it in you."

"Out in the wild, you learn to how to walk the line between kindness and survival," Snow returns without taking her eyes off the groaning man her well-placed arrow has pinned. "I have you to thank for that lesson – at least in part."

Rather than being offended, Regina preens as if having been praised for her role in Snow's criminal endeavors. "What a genuine compliment! It's been a long time since I've had one from you, so I'll take it." She chuckles when Snow cuts her eyes over and huffs in irritation.

The poor individual Snow White disabled uses their distracted attention to attempt dislodging the arrow. Regina tuts out a warning before he can wiggle it free. "Don't even think about it," she growls, then stalks forward with a malefic smile. As she approaches, he shrinks against the building in a futile and pathetic attempt to get away from her.

Upon reaching her quarry, she waves her hand, restraining him with her magic. "Obviously you have something to hide. I'll get it out of you one way or another. So, if you value the rest of your appendages, you can start by telling me who you are."

"No one of consequence," is his evasive reply.

"You will be if you don't answer me truthfully," she then says, grasping his jaw with an iron grip. She leans in close, snarling. "Continue to be an annoyance and I will make you famous as an example to these fine folks that will remain long after I have departed." He gulps nervously, and the reaction tells her that he is reaching a pliable state. "Now, one last time: who...are...you?"

He does not answer immediately, glaring back at her as best as he can around his otherwise fearful expression. She grips his jaw until her nails begin to cut into his flesh, and then draws her hand back to summon a fireball big enough to engulf his head. Expression baleful, she brings the flame up close enough that it flickers and dances in his eyes and she can see his skin reddening from the terrific heat. The closer it gets to touching his face, the more horrified he becomes. Sweat begins pouring from his skin, and his eyes widen as the flame licks at the underside of his stubbled chin.

"Alright, alright! I'm an imperial guard," he finally spews, panicked at the threat of his face being melted off. Regina raises her brow at him at the vague answer, and he gets the hint. "My name is Darion. I am a guardsman of the Second Royal Regiment of the Grand Army of Oz."

When Regina pulls the flame back slightly, Darion slumps with relief. "To whom are you beholden?" she presses, and when he hangs his head in defeat, Regina internally crows with delight. Breaking prisoners was always one of her specialties. It's nice to know she still has the touch, though she wouldn't have minded getting to flex those muscles a little more thoroughly before her victim caved. This one was rather pathetic...

Drawing a shaky breath, the weak-willed guard says, "I once was loyal to the Royal Family of Oz, but now I work for the Wicked Witch."

 _So he's a turncoat as well,_ Regina thinks, her opinion of him plummeting by the second. "And where, pray tell, is it that you are stationed?"

"In the Emerald City."

Regina grins with unrestrained giddiness. Another break in the endless procession of storm clouds she has been living under. An intrepid ray of sunshine pokes its way through, bathing her in its warmth. If only a tiny bit, fortune seems to be smiling down upon her after all. Her knowledge of Oz may be limited but she knows enough about the Emerald City to have set it as their first objective on this mission. As the central seat of power in Oz, the probability is high of obtaining documents which contain relevant information concerning the Grove. Maps detailing its the precise location are also likely to be stored there. Darion's position would provide them with a generous head start towards that achieving both aims.

"Excellent! Now we're getting somewhere." She sharply pokes at Darion's wounded hand, still pinned by an arrow, and leans in closer as he groans in protest. She feels Snow's disapproval of the unscrupulous tactic from over her shoulder, but ignores her companion in pursuit of the lead they've so serendipitously stumbled across. "If you want the pain to stop," she says to a squirming Darion, "tell me how to enter the city undetected."

The guardsman's eyes narrow into slits. He grits he teeth as sweat pebbles at his brow. "Why should I tell you that? What's your business there? I thought you were seeking the Grove."

"I am," Regina says, keeping steady pressure on the wounded hand, "but I require directions to reach it. I'm most likely to find them in the city, even if I must infiltrate the palace itself and pilfer any maps I can find from under that Witch's snooty nose."

"She...she'll kill you if she catches you."

A fair point. Or it would be if Zelena were present on this world. Regina releases Darion's hand, feeling quite smug. Aside from satisfaction derived from his pain, she is more than a little pleased at having a significant head start on her sister.

She leans in even closer, conspiratorial smirk on her lips. "It's a good thing she's not here to catch me then, isn't it?"

"I wouldn't be so sure of that if I were you," Darion says, his confident tone indicating her assertion is false.

Regina pulls back to study his gaze. Eyes narrowed, she reaches toward his wounded hand only to veer away at the last second to rest her palm next to it against the wall. The threat is well received, as Darion gulps in anticipation of further abuse to the appendage.

"What does that mean? What are you not telling me?" she asks. It's less a question than a command that Darion, thankfully for his sake, correctly interprets.

"The Witch returned to Oz yesterday," he says, and Regina can detect no deception in his answer. Her heart lurches as her hopes plummet. "She has holed up in the palace ever since. I was deployed to this village to watch for your arrival and report back to her. She is expecting you."

Drawing back, Regina starts to pace frenetically. All her carefully laid plans are unfurling before her very eyes at a rate she will be unable to keep up with. Zelena is in Oz already! She'd arrived ahead of Regina and Snow. But why? This information does not sit well, and that is aside from the implications to her quest here. If Zelena has discovered her intention to travel to Oz with Snow White in tow, it means she was either magically eavesdropping or had a spy placed within the heart of the citadel. Before now, Regina would have considered the former an impossibility. She had only discussed her plans with the few select individuals she trusted implicitly to put Red's needs ahead of all else. She assumed Snow and Charming would have remained silent out of a similar motivation. Unless…

Was it possible that Snow had once again betrayed her? Had the idiotic woman actually gone and blabbed about their plans to the wrong person in the brief time she'd been privy to them? Was an hour really too long to stay silent? Then again, it hadn't been much longer than that when Snow spilled the last secret she entrusted to her to a manipulative Cora. Daniel died not long after.

Fury rises up inside her with an incredible force and speed, propelling her heart rate until the organ is racing in her chest like a prized thoroughbred stallion at full gallop. She whirls around, ready to kill the insipid brat right then and there, only to stop cold as a singular thought crosses her mind: what would Red say right now?

" _Why do you always assume the worst of people?_ " Red would ask, and strangely enough, Regina can actually hear the warm honey of her voice in her head. That this is the second time it has happened is concerning on a whole other level outside of her current predicament. " _Snow wouldn't betray me like that any more than you would._ "

" _Is that so?"_ Regina argues internally with the Red in her mind, pacing to and fro as she does so. The rest of the world fades into the background and she lets it, heedless of how mad she may appear to a bunch of strangers and one woman she spent half a lifetime hating. " _She did it once. Why not again? In my experience, people are who they are. For instance, I'm me: an angry, obsessive, possessive, vengeful pessimist. Whereas Snow is a goody-two-shoes with a dysfunctional brain, a naive heart, and a tongue that cannot be tamed. Her very nature makes her the primary suspect._ "

Regina can almost see her wife's frustration at her stubborn cynicism, and she for sure hears it in the imaginary reply. " _First off, you are those things, yes, but that's not all there is to you and you know it! You're not the same woman you were, hon, and neither is Snow. She isn't a ten year kid anymore who just lost her mom and got rescued by the most beautiful, badass lady to ever live. No wonder she was naive enough to fall for your mother's act. She's grown up since then. She has a kingdom of her own she rules over. She's a mother now, too. She's learned from her mistakes. Besides all that, she loves me and knows how important this mission is. She wouldn't risk my life for anything or anyone except Charming or Emma, and far as we know they're both safe and sound. And last but not least, she's not doing this just for me. She's doing it for you, too. She loves you, Regina! Can't you see how much she wants to make up for what she did all those years ago?_ "

Gritting her teeth, Regina stills her pacing. Her hands clench at her sides and she squeezes her eyes shut against a rapidly escalating rage. Red should damn well know she does not want to recognize any of that! She is perfectly content to remain ignorant to Snow's impossible hope for reconciliation. Wasn't the armistice she offered enough? Honestly, to ask more of her at this point is patently absurd.

And yet, she's seen it all the same. Snow has changed. And so has she. To deny either of those charges would make her the worst brand of liar.

" _Damn you, Red,_ " she thinks _._ " _Why do you always have to be right?_ " She half expects her wife's disembodied voice to flaunt the concession as she usually does – with a huge smile, a playful wink, and a teasingly drawled out response. " _'Cause I'm just awesome that way. Best not forget it, lover._ " That doesn't happen, though. Instead, Red's dreamlike voice calmly states, " _I'm not always right. Especially not this time, because I'm not me. This is all in your head. Deep down, you want to believe in Snow, you're just afraid to. Well, stop it. You don't have time to be afraid_."

Regina is so irritated she is on the verge now of popping the cork on the pressurized bottle that is her anger. " _You think I don't know that? Your life is on the line and my only hope of saving it just went up in smoke because my sister is in Oz already! How am I supposed to sneak in to the Emerald City and get the information I need without Zelena finding out?_ "

" _That's just the thing,_ " the Red voice says. " _Maybe she_ should _find out._ " Regina physically opens her mouth to berate her own insane projection when it dawns on her just what it was hinting at.

"That's splendid!" The volume of her response is high enough to draw the attention of passersby who, for fear of her, have til now purposefully ignored the interrogation being conducted right in front of them.

"It is?" asks Snow with barely concealed disbelief.

"Yes, my dear, it most certainly is," Regina says, her hope having been restored. At least for the moment, anyway. "We have an opportunity to distract our foe thanks to our new ally here."

Darion grunts sourly. "I'm not your ally."

"Oh, but you are." To reinforce the point, she adopts the dangerous pose and buttery smooth tone that generally means she's as cheerful as she is murderous because it would actually make her happy to murder someone. "If you aren't, why then I'll have no use for you. Which in that case, I suppose I'll just have skewer you on a spit and roast you slowly over a low flame. It would be most amusing to feast upon your delicious screams." She grins when he swallows audibly. " _Or_ …you can work for me this once and receive the reward I have already promised plus an additional hundred percent on top of it. The choice is yours."

The subdued guardsman doesn't even bother to disguise his piqued interest. "A hundred percent extra?"

Regina's answering grin would put the Cheshire cat to shame. _Gotcha, you slimy bastard._ "Indeed. It is a most generous offer if I do say so myself."

Darion gives up all pretense of resistance as he sags in surrender. "What is it I must do?"

Regina gives a delighted laugh then roughly yet impishly smacks his cheek a couple times. He rubs at the sore spot as she relays his instructions. His orders are to return to the Emerald City posthaste and inform the Witch that she and Snow have arrived in Oz already armed with the knowledge of the location of the Grove. To avoid undue suspicion of openly using magic, they chose a convoluted path designed to throw their adversary off the scent. This alternate route will carry them far out of the way to the west before veering north toward the mountains. Before revealing this false information to Zelena, he is to hire two willing individuals, no matter how much gold has to be promised, in obscure clothing to travel said route. If all goes according to plan, her sister will calculate their trip to the mouth of the pass to take several days and thus delay her own arrival.

Meanwhile, Regina will be making other more expeditious arrangements. All she needs is to find one person who has physically laid eyes upon the gates of the Grove. With that, she will be able to cast a transportation spell utilizing their memory which will take her and Snow directly to their destination. While Zelena is out chasing her own tail, Snow will already be collecting the bark from the tree. And by the time Zelena gets to the Grove and realizes she's been tricked, they will have returned to the Enchanted Forest and woken Red. Of course, Regina knows that plans rarely ever go off without a hitch, but any meaningful delay in Zelena confronting her is a boon she will take.

After securing Darion's oath that he will do as agreed, she issues one final warning. Should he cross her, she says, she will hunt him down and visit such pain upon him that his ancestors would beg for mercy. When she releases him from her magic, he scurries away toward the outskirts of town. Moments later they hear the sound of hoof-beats plodding toward the city. It is the sound of a minor victory in a war that will likely feature many more battles.

Regina turns to Snow, ready to move on in the interest of haste. "Let's go. I don't trust that neanderthal to tie his own boots, but if he comes through, we must be ready to take advantage."

Snow nods, but does not move toward the path leading back to the yellow brick road. Instead, she jogs off toward a man standing by the well who has observed all that happened with calculated disinterest. Regina can tell by the man's dress and his huge musculature that he is the local blacksmith, and therefore the local farrier who in all likelihood has ready access to a horse. Again, she is impressed by Snow's deductive capabilities, but withholds any accolades out of principle.

"Excuse me, good sir," Snow greets the bearded mountain of a man, "I wonder if there might be a horse we can purchase? As you have no doubt seen, we have gold aplenty."

"As it just so happens, there is," he replies, his voice every bit as gruff as Regina expected. "For the right price, I will sell you mine. I shod him afresh not two days ago. He's a good, sturdy boy who will get you wherever you need to go, but he won't be cheap."

"How much?" Regina asks after joining Snow.

He indicates toward the bag of gold she had summoned with his head. "That bag right there ought to do."

Regina's lip curls at the outrageous demand. This pouch contains enough gold to pay for half a dozen horses. His price is simple fleecing, no more, no less, but since they are in need, far from home, and with time running out, she sees no other alternative but to agree.

"Fine," she sighs, but then hardens her gaze. "However, I'll not be parting with a single coin until I've seen the animal in question. Bring him to me and then after I personally inspect him, I will pay you."

With a nod, the man plods away to fetch the horse. Regina watches him go, staring balefully at him all the way. It is only after he disappears behind the same building Zelena's guard had that she turns back to her traveling companion.

Snow smiles at her almost fondly enough to make Regina's stomach curl. "You always were a tough negotiator."

"I learned to be one by the flat plane of a very sturdy ruler," Regina replies wryly, then resumes watching for the blacksmith to return with their horse.

"I'm sorry," Snow says after a short silence. "I can't imagine my mother treating me that way."

Regina dismisses Snow's concern with an idle wave of her hand. "Don't be. I don't need or want your sympathy."

"And yet you have it," Snow insists rather stubbornly.

Regina rolls her eyes. "Duly noted. Can we just wait for the barbarian to return with our horse in silence now? I am tired of talking for the moment."

"Fine," sighs Snow, "but know that we will revisit this at a later date."

"Don't hold your breath," Regina retorts. "I'd rather swallow a crate of rusty nails than discuss my childhood with you."

"Do you talk to Red about it?"

Regina growls in annoyance. "Did you not hear what I said less than five seconds ago?"

Snow shrugs off her irritation. "Yes. But I still want to know."

Regina bites the inside of her cheek to keep from screaming. Or turning Snow into something squishable. "And what do you imagine entitles you to that knowledge?" she asks a moment later in a carefully modulated tone.

Snow tilts her head to the side just so, and gestures at Regina with her hand. "Simple. I'm here. I'm helping you. And not just for Red. I know it may be hard to believe, but I honestly care about you. I never stopped."

This is the last topic Regina wants to discuss. She hadn't wanted to get into it with the fake Red in her head, and she sure as _hell_ doesn't with Snow. After all, Snow's feelings for her were what got Daniel killed. Furthermore, she is never in the mood to bandy about rehashing the girl's perpetual naivety. She is even less inclined to entertain it in their current setting.

"Then you are a fool," she declares, closing off her expression to end any further needling from Snow.

Snow's lips quirk up at the corners, but she gets the hint. "Maybe I am. And maybe I don't care if I am," she replies, then attempts a change of track back to the original topic. "So do you? Talk to Red?"

"By the gods! You never stop, do you?!" Regina exclaims, angrily throwing her hands up. "Yes! If it will shut you the hell up for five damn minutes: yes, I talk to Red about it. She's my wife, Snow, I have no secrets from her."

Snow nods happily at that, taking absolutely no offense at Regina's harsh tone. "Good. That's really good, Regina. I'll be quiet now, 'cause that's all I wanted to know."

Regina heaves out an exasperated sigh. "Thank the blessed gods above."

Unfortunately, the silence does not last beyond a minute, for the blacksmith soon returns, a handsome dapple gray steed in tow who is already saddled. His coat is in the dark range, and his legs are solid black all the way up past his joints. As if to juxtapose with the depth of his grays, his tail and mane are a gleaming white that seem almost unnatural. Regina perks up at the sight of him. He is gorgeous, and she is immediately in love.

"He's magnificent," she comments when the man and horse draw near. She does not ask for permission to inspect her potential purchase. She slowly approaches the stallion to offer her hand. When he ducks his snout into it and blows out a snort of acceptance, she grins. Daniel told her from their first meeting that she had an innate touch with horses, and time had only reaffirmed how right he was.

Carefully, Regina proceeds to circle around the animal, allowing her hand to brush along his back and flanks. She does this to get a good sense of his muscle development at crucial areas in order to ensure he is healthy, which he is much to her approval. At approximately four years of age, he is the picture of equine fitness.

Already relaxed with her, the horse does not protest her examination once. He stands calmly as she maneuvers all the way around him, and when she is at his head once more, he nods and whinnies as he steps trustingly toward her.

"Hello, handsome," she says, giving him what he wants by stroking her hand along his nose and in his mane. She eyes the blacksmith as she continues her ministrations. "What's his name?"

"He doesn't have one," the man says.

This angers Regina. She bristles visibly. "Are you completely without manners? It is a disgrace to refuse a horse its name. They are not the dumb beasts that graze in your fields, but majestic creatures who are to be respected!"

The man simply stares, completely unaffected by her outburst. "I don't care. He does the job I need him to do and that's all that matters. Now, are you gonna buy him or what?"

Regina almost steps into the man's personal space to castigate him further only to be stopped by Snow's hand on her elbow. It is a brave move, and one that Regina would normally not respond well to. As it is, she modulates her reaction by harshly shrugging off the hand and schooling her features.

"We'll take him," she says, and then tosses the man the pouch of money. After catching it, he gives them a yellow, decrepit smile before unceremoniously walking away. "How uncivilized," she comments as she watches him go, but another nudge from a moist nose draws her attention. Her expression immediately softens. "At least he took decent care of you. What shall we call you? Huh?" she muses as she takes his lead and begins walking toward the path leading back to the yellow brick road. She knows that Snow is watching her with rapt attention, but pays that fact no mind. She is far too captivated with her new friend.

"Perhaps Whitemane," she then poses, and as if he understands her, he shakes his head. She laughs and begins suggesting a litany of horse appropriate monikers which don't really fit and which he doesn't seem to appreciate. Finally nearing the yellow brick road, she glances up and catches a hint of the moon in the darkening sky. Inspiration hits. "Lucas," she calls out at him, and in response, he nickers. Regina beams at him. "That's it isn't it?" she coos, scratching as his nose as he leans into her. "Lucas. A beautiful name for a beautiful boy."

"And girl," Snow adds pointedly.

The mention of Red brings with it all sorts of mixed emotions. Regina wishes Red was there to meet her namesake, so proud and beautiful and strong, just like her. Lucas seems to radiate a goodness, a light from within that cannot be extinguished, and it reminds Regina of Red, which – along with glimpsing the moon – is why she'd blurted the name out. It just seemed so fitting.

Stroking the length of his jaw affectionately, Regina leans in to rest her head against his nose. "I wish she was here to meet you, Lucas. I think she would love you as much as I already do." After too short of a moment, she draws back, and resettles herself on the mission. As much as she would love to simply enjoy a long night ride upon Lucas, swiftly reaching the Emerald City takes precedence.

Regina does not have to worry about whether the stallion will accept her or not, and her faith in him is affirmed when he patiently allows her to mount up. Once steady in the saddle, she looks at Snow and pats the space behind her. "Come on. We haven't got all night."

Snow nods and then accepts the hand Regina stretches out, using the stirrup to propel herself up. Pressed against Regina's back, Snow winds her arms around Regina's waist and then says, "Ready."

Regina places her feet in the stirrups, getting used to their feel for a moment as she'd been taught. Comfort washes over her in gentle waves. The saddle has always been a second home.

With a smile splitting her cheeks, she nudges Lucas forward with her heels and a barked command that he immediately obeys. With a happy whinny, he charges forward into a gallop.

Back on the road, the Emerald City shines brilliantly in the waning light of the evening. The target is firmly in sight, their destination looming ever larger and more definite by the yard. What awaits them there is far less certain.


	19. Borealis

**A/N:** For those who might be wondering, there will be one more Red-centric chapter after this one. The rest of the narrative stays with Regina. That isn't to say Red won't show up again. She will. I promise.

 **Standard Disclaimer** : These lovely characters ain't mine, I just play with them gently. Please don't sue me. The mistakes are mine, though.

* * *

 **Chapter 18** – Borealis

For days on end, the cycle repeats. With nothing of substance to occupy her in this magical prison, Red passes the time pacing to and fro until her legs turn to jelly. When she can no longer stay vertical, she collapses to the filthy, ash matted floor to do one of three things: bawl her eyes out; scream until her voice can no longer produce sound; or simply lie motionless having drained herself of any energy with which to express the frustration, anxiety, and despair that now dominate her every waking thought. Once she's recovered her wits enough to think somewhat coherently and her legs can once again support her weight, she arises to complete the futile circuit all over again.

There is no reprieve to be found in sleep, for the magic keeping her imprisoned also binds her to consciousness. She supposes the bliss of slumber would be too great a mercy here, someplace apparently designed specifically to slowly drive its occupant insane. It's a form of torture where her mind is responsible for all the dirty work instead of some grimy cretin – or heartless mother-in-law – wielding a whip or a knife. It does so with a panache that leaves little doubt she is, in this place at least, her own greatest enemy.

It would be a hopeless task to count the number of times she's imagined Regina dying. Usually bloody and alone, broken in body and spirit, half shrouded in the malice-twisted shadow of a witch with green skin and striking hair the color of the setting sun. Those are the manifestations of her deepest fear, and they never fail to paralyze her and cauterize her ability to maintain any semblance of rationality. The dark part of her, the one that always craves carnage during Wolf's Time, repetitively informs her those minutes – or hours for all she knows – of bone chilling terror proceeded by white hot panic are actually a preview of what awaits her should she ever get out of here. And that just sets off another bout of hysteria.

Equally pointless would be any attempt to reckon how many times she's entertained scenarios of her rescue. Oh, how she would laugh and cry in joyous tandem when Regina appeared, resplendent in a crimson gown trimmed in black lace, magic arcing from her fingertips as the cloud from which she had appeared dissipates harmlessly into thin, fingery wisps of violet smoke. Heedless of her sorry state of cleanliness, she would run headlong into her wife's arms. They'd kiss, of course, long and slow and deep to get reacquainted with how the other tastes after the excruciating separation. Then they'd go home and take a steaming bath, perhaps even make love right there in the tub, before tidying up and retiring to bed where Red would sleep for two whole days. It's that fantasy, hopeless as it feels, that keeps her sane when her logical side has already concluded the first scenario is the one most likely to be true and that she'll never see Regina alive again.

As if to further fracture the frail glass pane of her reality, time has well and truly lost all meaning. She is pretty sure that she has been marooned here for at least a week, though any further attempts to keep track of the passage of seconds, minutes, or hours became irrelevant around her hundredth cycle through the routine she developed to stay active. Pacing the circular area that isn't on fire does not lend much aid to her physical fitness, but the movement does help to ward off the earnest onset of depression. Or madness. Neither of which she can permit herself to fall victim to.

The reason to avoid insanity is fairly self-explanatory. If she were to crack and break, it would be best for everyone if she never made it out of here. A crazy woman is of no use to anyone, and a crazy werewolf even less. Red's mother, Anita, and her pack had been a menace to every living thing within a league, and they were all perfectly sane. Well, maybe not _perfectly_ , but they were in their right minds for sure, able to discern between right and wrong, good and bad, and were aware their behavior was unacceptable to anyone with a sliver of morality left in their hearts. That being the case, she cannot imagine the havoc and terror a truly insane werewolf could wreak. How many innocents would it kill before being put down like the rabid animal it was? In that condition, utterly lost to the wolf and her bestial excesses, Red doesn't think there would be anything worth saving. If she can't be the wife that Regina deserves and the Queen that Misthaven needs, she would rather be dead.

As for depression...well, to werewolves, that particular mental condition can be fatal. It's the main reason the species has gone nearly extinct in the part of the world Misthaven inhabits. Persecution has dwindled their numbers, just not quite below levels of sustainability. No, it was the mass onset of malaise following the latest and largest culling that took the biggest toll on the packs of Misthaven. The exact science behind how the process works is known to none currently alive – that Red is aware of at least. Not even Granny has an explanation beyond an educated hunch. According to her, the wolf is inextricably linked to a person's spiritual energy, thus making it especially vulnerable to excessive bouts of grief or despair. The longer someone deteriorates within the icy throes of depression, the closer the wolf inches toward death. So if the wolf dies, the person dies, too.

Not that Red believes she _can_ die here. Her inability to sleep combined with the fact that she does not require sustenance of any kind has led her to conclude she's not physically present. Or if she is present in body, the magic of this plane is able to sustain her without provision of the bare necessities to survival. If she'd had access to something sharp, she'd have tested the theory long ago by slitting her own throat – a macabre idea if she's ever had one. She's as confident as she can be that nothing would happen. Like the fire that she has discovered will burn her flesh without consuming it, she would feel the pain without experiencing the corresponding consequence of her action.

Maybe if she gets desperate enough, she'll be able to scrounge up the spine to rend her wrists with her teeth. Close as she is to seeing that as a viable experiment, she's not quite to the violent stage of delirium yet...

Logically all of this data taken together means whatever the correct explanation for the lethality of depression in werewolves is, in her situation it is ultimately inconsequential. The wolf will be kept alive the same way she is: with magic. All the same, avoidance of that fatal malady does not mean she can afford to lay down and give up. If there's even the slightest hope of being freed, she has to cling to it with all her might. She hasn't forgotten the oath she'd heard Regina speak as she woke up. For her own sake, she would have ceased resistance against the seemingly inevitable long ago. But for Regina…? For Regina, she will struggle against surrender until the bitter end.

Suddenly, Red is jolted out of her thoughts by a faint whooshing sound. She thinks it closely resembles the one she hears whenever her wife poofs into a room using magic.

"Hello?" she shouts, peering into the darkness on the other side of the flame wall. "Is there anyone there?" No one replies. She repeats the effort to make contact several more times before she catches a flutter of movement in the inky darkness.

Just after she's made her final bellowing call, she sees the new occupant of the chamber, clearly a woman judging by her slim but noticeable hourglass figure, slowly emerge out of the shadows. Her eyes, it seems, have regained an inkling of their keen edge so that she can now discern details about the stranger who has joined her in this special grade of hell.

The person that steps into view is a remarkably beautiful young lady around her age, with skin as fair as her own and pale blue eyes. Russet hair falls in waves about her shoulders and frames a delicate yet strong jawline capped by supple-looking lips. Her lavender dress, along with an ornate floral tiara and a stunning necklace made of pearls set into open hearts, mark her as a woman of high birth.

As Red studies her new companion, the woman stares back, gaping at her in mute disbelief. Red isn't quite sure why the woman is so astonished, nor she doesn't really care. Before her stands an opportunity at learning more about her whereabouts. Who knows, with any luck this stranger might actually know of way to get out of this godsforsaken place.

"Can you hear me?" she hollers, louder than she had before, figuring the other woman's lack of response to be caused by the ceaseless noise of an ever-burning ring of fire.

"Only just!" the woman shouts back. Red hardly hears her over the rolling rumble of flames that flare white hot, as if in condemnation of their attempt at discourse.

" _I wish it would just stop!_ " she thinks, suddenly furious about the obstacle preventing any meaningful conversation. As if a miracle of her own fashioning, the roaring dies down to a tolerable level, as do the flames, which settle into a low, gentle sway. Red stares in wonder for a moment before returning her attention to the newcomer.

"Can you hear me now?" she poses, coming to stand closer to the wall on a hunch that pays off. The insufferable heat has died down along with the sound.

"Yes, I can," the woman says, her voice as lovely as her features. "Can you hear me?"

Red nods affirmatively. "How did you get here?"

The auburn-crowned beauty peers at her curiously, head cocked to the side. "I am frequently sent to such a chamber when I fall asleep." She steps hesitantly closer to the partition. "Is that not the case for you as well?"

Red rubs her upper arms, suddenly cold in the absence of the fire's unbearable heat. "No. This is my first trip here."

Deep sympathy bordering on pity mars the pretty woman's visage. "Oh. So you're still under the sleeping curse then. I'm sorry."

Red staggers and her heart skips a beat. "Wait a second. I'm in a sleeping curse right now?"

Suddenly, an unbidden thought darts through her mind of her best friend laying so pale and still in that glass coffin out in the middle of the forest. Snow had been put under a sleeping curse by Regina some years ago, and if what this woman is saying is true, that means Snow was once here, too.

Red feels caustic anger and hot shame color her cheeks. Shame that she hadn't made Snow talk about what happened to her after David woke her up, and anger that Regina condemned Snow to this hellish realm of ceaseless torment. If Red had known about damnable place at the time, she would have done a whole lot worse than scream in Regina's face until her eyes glowed yellow, her canines lengthened, and her lover actually started to look afraid of her. She certainly would have stayed gone a whole lot longer! More like two months instead of two measly weeks...

How could she have forgiven Regina so easily? And how could she not have recognized how acutely her closest friend in the world had suffered? The short answer is that love had blinded her. Love for Snow enhanced by profound joy that she wasn't dead and was returned unharmed to those that cared for her. And a fathomless love for Regina that overshadowed the rage that had propelled Red to flee the Dark Palace forever. Forever only lasting until she _ach_ _ed_ for Regina with an intensity that at times nearly brought her to her knees and could no longer fight against the burning desire to be with her again no matter the cost to her conscience or Snow's feelings.

Fortunately, Snow had understood why before Red did.

" _What you have with her is like what I have with Charming._ _So don't beat yourself up, sweetie. You can't help it any more than I can,_ " Snow had said as they sat together on one of the benches in the courtyard under a row of red maple trees. " _The good you see in her and the love you have for her outweigh all other considerations. And that's not something to be ashamed of. I won't judge you for it, either. How can I when I still love her, too? Not like you do, maybe, but I really do. That's why I think you need to stop punishing yourself, and her, and go back home._ "

Red, course, protested with the same old tired argument. " _But she cursed you! My best friend! Knowing how that would make me feel. How am I supposed to get over that, huh? How am I supposed to forgive her when I can't even stand to look at her?_ "

Instead of agreeing or cheering her on, Snow responded to the rant with one of her calm, reassuring smiles _._ " _Oh, honey, I know you're upset with her and you should be._ _What she did was terrible_ _,_ _b_ _ut I don't think forgiving her is the problem."_

Pausing, Snow grasped Red's hand as a look came over her face that told Red she had best listen because what was about to be said was very important. And it was.

" _I think you already have forgiven her,_ " Snow then continued, the truth of her words slamming into Red with the force of a herd of cattle _._ " _You love her too much not to. And again, that's okay, because so do I. There's no use trying to reason it out or make sense of it. That's just how love is._ _It makes no sense and perfect sense all at the same time. And fighting it will only cause more hurt that could so easily have been avoided._ _So what you need to do_ _right now_ _is stop fighting with your instincts and go back home. It's time to quit hiding out here and confront her about this. Staying with me won't fix anything. It won't make you feel better, or Regina, or me. And I'm not saying I don't want you here. You know I do. I love you like you were my flesh and blood sister,_ _and you being here has been such a blessing_ _. But we both also know you don't belong with me anymore. You belong with Regina_ _now_ _. And the only way you're gonna be able to make it work with her is to refuse to let her_ _scare_ _you off._

" _She thinks that's what she's done, by the way. That you're just another in a long line of people who loved her that were unable to stomach staying with her when things got hard because she did something bad. I'm not saying this to hurt you, please know that._ _I just know Regina –_ _a lot better than she thinks I do_ _. And I know you,_ _too_ _. Remember all that time we spent on the road? Just you and me against the world? If nothing else, I learned during those years about how you love. So_ _please_ _listen to me when I say this: y_ _ou may not realize it_ _or can admit it right now, but you love her unconditionally, just the way she is, and what she did to me hasn't changed that at all. You'll never be over her as long as you both draw breath._ _To deny that is to deny yourself._ _So don't. Because d_ _espite your anger, you still want to be with her. And in spite her cynical nature, she hasn't lost you like she thinks she has. But how are you two supposed to figure that out if you refuse to leave my side?_

" _So go home to her, Red. Your heart is already there_ _and has been since the moment you left her side_ _. Listen to it! Go home. Prove to her that when you say you love her, you mean it, even when she's being..._ _well,_ _her. R_ _emind her how_ _good you are together,_ _that it really is possible for her to be happy again_ _. T_ _ell her you forgive her_ _even though she hurt me and you by proxy. A_ _nd_ _then,_ _if she is willing to talk about what happened, please listen_ _to what she has to say_ _. Who knows, maybe then some_ _long lasting_ _good will come of this mess_ _after all_ _._ "

What could Red do in the light of that unexpected response except to embrace Snow's wisdom and act upon it. So that's what she did. She went home to Regina, told her how she felt, listened, and then forgave. And that was the last time Regina ever went after Snow.

"Sadly, yes," the woman says, returning Red to the present conversation. "That is why you are here. I'm sure you've been wondering where you were." Red nods, so she continues her explanation. "Well, this is one of the many enchanted planes to which all victims of Maleficent's sleeping curses are sent. Homely for a fire-breathing dragon, perhaps, but not so cozy for a person."

Red frowns deeply. Why hadn't Regina told her about this? Surely her wife's _unique_ friendship with Maleficent meant she would have been privy to the existence of these so-called enchanted planes. The only reasons Red can think of, either than she simply had no idea, are both unpleasant.

One is that Regina stayed mum out of respect for her dislike of the dragon. Werewolves and dragonkind have a longstanding rivalry and a natural distrust of one another stemming from an era in the ancient past when the dragons enslaved werewolves to serve as highly efficient manual labor and to carry out assassinations that did not require a dragon's flair or finesse. The first time Maleficent visited the Dark Palace after Red started living there, a heated confrontation ensued in which Red embarrassed Regina in front of the entire court. Explaining her reasoning behind the uncharacteristic aggression only barely got her out of the proverbial doghouse. That, and the fact Regina could tell she was eaten up with jealousy. Which she totally was. There was a weird vibe between Maleficent and Regina that did not sit well with her. It still doesn't to be honest, even though she's learned to tolerate the dragon's occasional – and always offensive – presence for her wife's sake.

The other possible reasoning for Regina's silence is related to Snow. Snow was once confined here while under the sway of a curse Regina was responsible for administering. Her friend had suffered in this place for weeks before Charming woke her up. No wonder Regina hadn't said anything, if that was the case, especially considering the way Red had reacted to finding out about the Curse. Regina was probably too afraid.

Red sighs miserably. She just had to go and fall in love with the most frustrating woman in the entire universe.

"You don't say," she says, her biting sarcasm more irritation at Regina than the stranger. Speaking of said woman, Red suddenly recalls something she'd mentioned during their first exchange. She perks up visibly. "So, I'm assuming since you're not stuck here like I am, you've been woken up? Which is why you only appear here when you fall asleep?"

"Correct," says the woman. "True Love's kiss is the only magic powerful enough to break this curse. My husband, Philip, woke me some six years ago now."

The news is a welcome relief for Red. Luckily for her she has a True Love ready and willing to kiss her awake. Only, she's still here and wonders why. As she should have anticipated, the worst possible answer flits across her mind: Regina has been either incapacitated or killed. She shudders at the thought but refuses to give it credence, choosing instead to take Snow's advice and cling to hope like a lifeline to keep her from falling into a never ending abyss of despair. No, nothing bad like that has happened. There's just been some unforeseen delay keeping Regina away. Or maybe time hasn't passed like she thought it has and what seems like a week for her has only been seconds for Regina. Whatever the case, Red knows Regina won't leave her here forever.

"Well, it should be happening at any moment for me then," she says, with more confidence than she actually feels considering how long she's been here. If Regina could have given her True Love's kiss, she would have done so immediately. The implications are unsettling. Either she's wrong about what she is to Regina or, as she just feared, her wife has been somehow incapacitated. It never enters her mind that the spell could have been modified to prevent her being awakened by the most powerful form of magic in the known universe.

Not wanting to appear vulnerable in front of her visitor, Red schools her expression and steels her nerves. There is no room for doubt. For too long now she's believed what she and Regina share is, indeed, True Love to be swayed by notions to the contrary that are all but impossible to confirm. She knows what they have and trusts it with her life.

As Red gives herself a minor pep talk, hope lifts her fellow detainee's demeanor. "You have found your True Love?"

"Yes. We've been married five years now. Together for seven. She's a very powerful sorceress. I'm sure she'll figure out what happened to me. She won't leave me here to suffer."

"I hope for your sake that is true. As someone who spent far too long here, believe me when I say that this is no place for a person to linger."

Red grins secretively. She isn't exactly a normal person. "Even for a werewolf?"

The woman gasps as her blue eyes startle wide. "You're a werewolf?" She backs away a pace, clearly frightened.

Red hates that she feels slighted. She ought to be used to this kind of reaction, as it's not an uncommon one. Humans are instinctively scared of werewolves in the same vein as they are snakes, just multiplied by a factor of hundred – or more. Which is understandable considering most of what remains of her kind are little more than minimally socialized animals who get their jollies terrorizing the local populace until they are either run off for good or caught and put down like the rabid beasts they are. Her mother's pack was a preeminent example. Even Regina, fascinated as she has always been with werewolves, had never heard of a pack so much as ambivalent toward ordinary humans. In every one of her wife's various tomes, it was always the same tale of the weak, careless, and foolishly brave being torn to shreds upon the dawning of a full moon. Never was there friendship or mutual avoidance involved.

Heartbreaking as it is for Red, and though she has little evidence to prove it, she can't help but conclude that as far as werewolves are concerned she is an exception to the rule. If so, it has to be because of who her father was. It certainly wasn't her mother she got her affability from.

Taking all that into account, she doesn't blame this woman one bit for being frightened. Truth be told, even after her mother taught her control and Regina has since honed that control to a finely sharpened edge, sometimes she still scares herself.

"I am," she says to the terrified woman, trying her best to look and sound nonthreatening. That her efforts produce a visible effect is a great relief. "Have you encountered any of my kind before?"

"No, and I have only heard of them in passing."

In spite of her negative view of her kin, Red is crestfallen at the news. However many times she's read or heard about feral werewolves, she keeps hoping against hope to encounter more like her. Stupid girl that she is, she keeps getting disappointed. But that's just her, stubborn to the end. _Like a starving dog hanging on to a dry bone_ , Regina would joke – accurately, much to Red's annoyance.

Unfortunately, the woman picks up on her reaction, which proves her to be a keen observer. "That saddens you."

Red nods reluctantly. "Yeah. I was kinda hoping to find more like me some day – that aren't bad, I mean. Other than my grandmother, I'm the only one I know of for a hundred miles, and as my wife would say, the only domesticated one in a thousand."

"There are reports in my father's documents of sightings within a fortnight's ride," the fair skinned beauty says, stepping back up as close as she can to the barrier. Red is relieved to see that her fear has fled. "To my best recollection, none of them mentioned violence. I have access to them. When I awaken, I will fetch them and have them copied and sent to you, wherever you live, if that interests you."

The gesture of goodwill is not only unexpected, coming as it is from a relative stranger, but deeply appreciated. Red hopes her smile is accordingly appropriate.

"That would be amazing. Thank you!"

"You're welcome," the woman says, smiling herself. But then her expression shifts and her brow furrows. "Come to think of it, I haven't made formal introductions. Normally I'm not so rude. Forgive me. I am Princess Aurora of Drakkenhall."

The Princess then executes a curtsy so perfect that Red is jealous. She's never got good at that, especially in those hideously restrictive dresses she's required to wear at state functions. It's hard enough for her to breathe in the blasted things.

All the same, she tries to do Regina proud with her own effort at a proper curtsy. "My name is Red," she says once the blasted maneuver is completed. "Pleased to meet you, Your Highness."

Aurora's answer smile is truly gorgeous. "Likewise, Red. Just Red is it?"

There is something in those perceptive blue eyes of Aurora's that tells Red her new friend has sussed out that she is no commoner herself. Or isn't anymore, anyway. Maybe it was the fancy morning dress she got tossed in here wearing that gave her away?

"Well, no," she says, abashed at having to come clean about her status. She's still not used to admitting she's royalty and isn't sure she ever will be. Old habits really do die hard. "Technically my name is Queen Red of Misthaven." She adopts a lopsided grin. "But I'm not the Queen of much but dust and soot down here."

For the second time, Aurora appears astonished. Less scared than when Red admitted being a werewolf, but shocked just the same. "Misthaven? Queen Regina's realm?"

"Yes. Regina is my wife."

"You're married to the Evil Queen?"

That has Red's hackles raised. Eyes flashing, she sneers at Aurora, so incensed she doesn't even notice the flames separating them flash white in concert with her anger. "She's not the Evil Queen! Not anymore." When Aurora stumbles back a step, hands raised as if to ward off an attack, Red deflates. She curses her inability to keep from being offended whenever Regina is insulted. "Sorry. I get a little aggressive advocating for her. It's in my nature to be overprotective."

It's a gross understatement if there ever was one. In that way, Red is a living reinforcement of people's preconceptions of her kind, that they are basically sentient wolves. Of course, they are far more complex creatures than that, especially Red, who according to Granny is the least werewolf of any of the natural born she's personally met. Where keeping her mate safe and defending her mate's honor are concerned, though, she is every bit the stereotypical canid.

Honestly, Red can tolerate valid criticism of Regina's many acute shortcomings. Often times, council meetings devolve into little more than echo chambers where Regina's every mistake in governance is nitpicked to death. It's hard to hold her tongue when the sniveling, spineless nobles that occupy the council are tearing apart her wife's every decision when all she wants to do is reemphasize their place on the food chain by tooth or claw. But her input is never needed, nor would it be appreciated when Regina gives twice as good as she gets. Sometimes Red feels sorry for the fools with courage enough to speak so impenitently. In short order they are given a harsh reminder that their sovereign is a woman who could just as easily ignite them into a burning ball of flames with a snap of her fingers as cut them to the marrow with a slew of crafty insults that usually leave them red-faced with shame.

It's only when people throw Regina's sordid past in her face that Red really gets riled up. Mostly Regina ignores the barbs she knows to be aimed at the Evil Queen while Red has a much harder time turning the other cheek. Which is odd, to say the least, when there was a time the opposite was true. When they first got together, Regina snapped nearly every time someone mentioned a past atrocity, leaving Red to scramble in a bid to calm her tempestuous lover. Now, it's Red being restrained whenever folks confront Regina who have either held on to their grudges, purposefully ignored all the good Regina's done since abandoning her crusade against Snow, or have simply forgotten their place.

Aurora doesn't need to know any of that though, so Red lets her explanation stand as is.

Although Aurora tries to put a brave face on in the wake of Red's outburst, it's clear she's still shaken by the way she absently rubs an unsteady hand around her neck. "No offense taken," she says, sounding as genuine as possible. "I hope you can understand my poor reception..."

Red takes in a deep breath, then exhales slowly as she sweeps a hand through her hair. She's frustrated with herself more than anything else. She'd long ago come to terms with Regina's past and the reality that she'd likely be defending her against detractors for the rest of their natural lives. She just can't seem to let it go. A slight against Regina is a slight against her, and if it goes on long enough, she will get mad enough to fight. It is simply in her nature to defend what's hers against any and all attacks, whether they be justified or not.

"Unfortunately, I do," she says with a sympathetic tint to her tone. "As much as it pains me to admit, Regina earned her reputation. She's working hard to redeem herself, though. Over time, she's won the trust and respect of most our people. The outside world, on the other hand, has been slow to accept that she's changed."

Aurora hums considerately. "Isn't that the way of things, though? When people become mired in their ways, their opinions, their prejudices...well, they become hard to uproot. It's hard to see past ingrained perceptions, even for the most wise of us."

"It is," Red agrees, grateful that Aurora is being so agreeable. "Which is what I try to remind Regina of every time someone tries to use her past as an excuse to defy or judge her."

"I imagine that happens frequently."

The point isn't made disparagingly. Not that Red could refute it even if it were.

"Too frequently," she says, a trickle of annoyance bleeding in. "Part of me is just tired of it and wants to fight back when people start tossing verbal stones at the woman I love. The other part gets it, though. Ya know? It takes time to heal wounds that deep, and it's just been five years since we married. I know it's irrational for me to expect people to see her the way I do, especially when she doesn't let down her armor for anyone but me."

Aurora eyes flash at the description of Regina's excessively private nature. "Sounds like someone I used to know. Everyone believed her to be dour, severe, and emotionless when I knew better. For whatever reason, she trusted me enough to let me see the real her, and it just frustrated me endlessly that she wouldn't open to up to others."

Red perks up, glad to have someone to commiserate with over their emotionally veiled loved ones. "That's exactly how it is with Regina. My friends still don't believe me when I tell them how amazing she is. They think it's an absurd notion that she isn't some tyrant that privately dominates me. Like it's unfathomable she can actually be incredibly romantic, sweet, funny, and kind. Or that she isn't fashioned out of jagged, sharpened steel. That she's vulnerable to people saying mean things just like everyone else is. The only reason I tolerate what little I do is because I know they only see the mask she wears around everyone but me and her father. They can't seem to fathom she got hurt so bad and so often in her past that she had to become hard to protect herself. That, or maybe they just don't care to understand."

Heaving out a sigh, Red realizes they have spent nearly the entire time they've been acquainted talking about the issues she faces being married to Regina and that she knows next to nothing about the cherubic beauty before her. She gestures toward Aurora, wearing an inviting smile.

"Anyway...enough about my trivial problems. Tell me about yourself."

Aurora appears surprised by the change of topic. "Do you really want to know about me?" 

"I wouldn't have asked if I didn't," Red snaps back, then shakes her head in chagrined apology. "Sorry. Guess Regina has rubbed off on me a little too much. That, and I'm pissed off about being stuck here."

"No apologies necessary," says Aurora with that compassionate inflection Red is beginning to associate with her.

"You have it all the same."

"In that case, I accept." Aurora then smiles so big and bright that it illuminates her countenance and makes her appear almost unfairly pretty.

Unable to help herself, Red blushes. Not that she's attracted to Aurora or anything. Well, that's a lie. She is attracted to Aurora, just not enough to entertain even a passing thought along those lines. However beautiful Aurora is, she can't measure up to Regina. No one can in Red's eyes. Regina is, to her, the personification of everything she's ever wanted out of life and thought she would never get. There isn't a person on any world that could lure her away from her beloved Queen.

"Thanks," she says, then clears her throat before returning to the point of her subject change. "So, please, tell me something about yourself. It'll help distract me for a while."

Aurora tilts her head ever-so-slightly to the side as she joins her hands together at her waist. "What would you like to know?"

"Oh, I don't know. Have any fun hobbies?"

Those incredible blue eyes twinkle with excitement. "As a matter of fact I do. Tell me, do you play any instruments?"

Red laughs at the question, remembering the time Regina had tried to teach her to play the harp. Music is not one of her talents, as her then-lover had found out. Bubbling with amusement, she tells Aurora all about how Regina had tried so hard to be patient but with each incorrect note or lapse of posture gritted her teeth until Red could hear her jaw pop. The lesson lasted a whole two hours before Regina stormed out of the room, eyes wild with irritation, and declared that musical instruments were forever off limits to Red for the sake of the residents of the castle.

" _I can't have all the help going deaf,_ " she'd snarked as she disappeared into the hallway in a swirl of skirts.

Red and Aurora share a laugh over that before Aurora returns the favor with a tale about her husband Philip's own inability to grasp musical theory. To his credit, Philip repaid her for the abuse to her ears by importing an exotic stringed instrument from the south for her to learn. Come to find out, the unusual form of lute he acquired is called a guitar and originated in the southerly regions of Regina's paternal homeland.

Their discussion then shifts to their respective realms and from there to topic after topic for what seems like hours. The eternal flames spouting up inside the room continue to burn at a tolerable level, as if they are somehow responsive to Red's moods. When she's laughing about something, they emanate a soothing warmth that seeps deep down into her bones but when a story turns sad, they falter, allowing a pervasive cold to pierce the thin material of her morning dress and bite at her sensitive skin. Whatever the cause of the phenomena, she feels comfortable enough that she won't be harmed to arrange herself into a seated cross-legged position whilst chatting amiably with Aurora, who mimics her across the divide.

For a while, she's able to forget about her circumstance as she exchanges all manner of stories, some humorous and some serious but all interesting, with a woman she'd never met before and yet somehow feels like she's known forever. Regina likes to say that she has a special talent for making friends, but this feels different. Aurora is different.

It takes her a while to figure out that it's because there is a shared thread between them of loving people who make loving them difficult. That common ground is, she thinks, a firm foundation upon which they can build a solid rapport. Somehow Red knows beyond a shadow of a doubt, although she can't pinpoint what gives her such a feeling, that it's the beginning of a long and happy friendship. That is, if she can ever get the hell out of this place...


	20. Some Things Never Change

**A/N:** For those few reading, I apologize for the tardiness. I got sidetracked with another ship. . Gonna try and keep up regular posting of this story, but I can't make any promises aside from it WILL get published in its entirety. This is already written, so there won't be any orphaning going on.

 **Standard Disclaimer** : These lovely characters ain't mine, I just play with them gently. Please don't sue me. The mistakes are mine, though.

* * *

 **Chapter 19** – Some Things Never Change

Against the backdrop of a darkening horizon, the Emerald City has enlarged into a much more vibrant sprinkling of verdant fingers that poking up into a vast blanket of starry sky. They are halfway to their destination. With the wind whipping around her and the cool of the night air nipping at her cheeks, Regina cannot help but enjoy the journey. The sound of Lucas' hooves pounding against the seamless joints of the Yellow Brick Road is music to her ears, and she lets the lively melody carry the miles away.

After a long while they enter a section of the golden thoroughfare that carves a diagonal path through a sprawling forest. Here evidence of the malady gripping the land of Oz is even more pronounced. Low light penetration is typical to any dense woodland sporting such a thick canopy of leaves overhead, but here the absence is almost tangible, an inky shadow that clings to her clothes and pores, clogs up her throat and airway until she cannot decide whether she wants to choke or gag. The smell of decay is pungent, the kind of odor most common to marshes and bogs where the soupy mix of brine and earth is left to ferment for decades, centuries even. Trees that more resemble a coven of centenarian hags occupy the darkness, all gnarled and withered trunks and angular limbs like arthritic fingers. Regina wonders whether this is a symptom of her sister's insidious rot or if this forest is simply a haven for malefic forces to congregate. If so, she does not wish to spend any more time loping through the gloom than is absolutely necessary.

She only lets up about half an hour later upon spotting a well-worn trail jutting to the east towards a small area bathed in light. The gentle sound of slowly running water makes for a far more inviting spot to break than the rest of their current environment. The stop is mostly for Snow's benefit. Her fellow monarch has been fidgeting behind her for the past five minutes, whether from the unsettling forest they are traversing or simple saddle soreness. Whatever the case, it was starting to get annoying. Having to halt their progress right now is not ideal, as she would prefer to keep going a while longer since Lucas has really hit his stride. He really is a marvelous specimen. She doesn't doubt he could take another half hour's hard riding before requiring a rest. But should he be made to test his limits just because she wants to push her own? Not only is that unwise, it is also cruel. Red is not in imminent danger just yet, nor are they so far as she can tell, which means she can afford the luxury of considering the needs of their mount. And Snow's, too, she supposes.

Close by, less than a hundred yards off the road, a crystal clear lake becomes visible just about halfway down the narrow path. A thin, meandering stream empties into it from the north, and it is banked in on their side by a rock outcropping that will provide good cover should they require it. It is, all things considered, a perfect spot for a breather. After halting Lucas at the heel of the path, Regina directs Snow to dismount and then does so herself once Snow is out of the way. She then leads Lucas by the reins toward the picturesque body of water whose surface is shimmering red in the failing light of the evening sun.

Upon reaching the shore, she sees no need to tie off her newly acquired steed and instead lets him wander freely. She has already bonded with Lucas and knows he will remain close by. As the majestic animal languidly waters at the rolling stream feeding the lake, she moves a stone's throw away to take a moment for herself. Despite their burgeoning camaraderie, getting away from Snow for a few minutes is probably a good idea. For both their sakes. To that end, she leaves Snow behind with a pointed glare that needs no translation, then skirts along the shoreline. She wanders aimlessly until stumbling upon a large, tear-drop shaped stone with a smooth surface. She peers once over her shoulder into the blackness of the forest, a final sweep for danger, before perching on the flat top of the slab, where she settles in to stare out numbly out at the calm surface of the lake.

Several minutes pass in silence before she feels rather than sees Snow intently eyeing her. When she cranes her head over she finds Snow nearby, studying her critically as if trying to unravel some fascinating mystery. The unflinching gaze unnerves her more than she would care for it to.

"What?" she barks when the tension becomes unbearable.

Snow tilts her head slightly before responding. "Just trying to figure out what she sees in you."

The statement should not have bothered Regina. In the seven years since Red came to live at the Dark Palace, she has lost count of how many times she's heard similar comments.

Everyone in the castle and in Stahldorf, the merchant town that sprung up in its shadow, adores Red. Almost to a person they think she is the most wonderful thing to happen to their kingdom since their beloved princess was driven into permanent exile. As Queen, Red has outdone herself and managed to win over nearly all of her initial detractors save a few stubborn hold-outs amongst the nobles who still see her as a threat, and even those have learned to tolerate her provincial manners, principles, and ideologies. There is a consensus among them that her presence has been beneficial for the kingdom's general welfare solely for her ameliorating influence on Regina. That Red was once a peasant has become insignificant in the light of that inarguable benefit.

It's no wonder, then, that people cannot fathom what a lovely young woman like Red is doing with someone of Regina's volatile temperament. The sad fact of the matter is, for all of her efforts to change, she remains regrettably herself. There are times she is vindictive, others she is cruel, often sarcastic to a fault, unduly harsh, intractable when her mind is made up, and demanding to a degree approaching the tyrannical. The only time she allows herself to be tender and approachable is in private with Red, away from prying eyes that might witness such inexcusable weakness. In public, she is never long without the armor of professional detachment. She has moments of kindness now that once she never would have permitted, but they never last long. A Queen cannot afford to appear vulnerable when she has as many enemies as Regina does.

It makes perfect sense Snow would feel as she does about her relationship with Red. But that doesn't mean it's easy to swallow when she wants so much to be worthy of Red's love and feels she will forever fall short.

"Believe me," she answers Snow after a brief, uncomfortable pause, "I wonder the same thing on a daily basis."

Snow hums, not so much in agreement as acknowledgment. "Well, all that matters is there is something there. Right? I've yet to meet a finer judge of character than Red. She has a way of seeing things others don't want her to or that they don't even know are there in the first place. If there's a sliver of goodness inside someone, she'll be the one to find it."

"Agreed. She has a way of loving the unlovable," Regina says, clearly referring to herself. "Unlike me, she has a good heart."

Snow pulls a face that says she disagrees. "That's not entirely true. Maybe I would have thought that two days ago, but don't forget, I've seen yours. Literally."

Regina does not follow the relevance of her heart's condition on what mystifying characteristic attracts Red to her. "So?"

"So," Snow elaborates, "I had assumed it would be pretty much all black but it's not. Not even close." Regina flinches slightly, unable to hide her reaction to the state of her heart. She had hoped Snow missed that little detail, but the brat's perceptiveness continues to surprise her. No wonder she evaded Regina's knights so effectively. Everyone had underestimated her potential except Red. "I can see by your reaction that it caught you unaware as well." Regina says nothing, though her silence is tacit confirmation. "She's helping you to heal, isn't she?"

"Yes," Regina grits out, knowing that lying is pointless. If she tries, Snow will hound her relentlessly, just like she did back in that squat village they auspiciously stumbled upon Darion. "But don't go advertising that fact any time soon. My fearsome reputation is useful in many ways. For one, it's kept Red alive these past seven years."

"What do you mean by that?" Snow asks, aghast.

Regina scoffs derisively at Snow's perpetually callow nature. "Did you not hear me earlier when I told you she was wounded saving my life? And honestly, Snow, did you believe that she could marry _me_ without becoming a target? You're a blue-blooded royal. You grew up in that vicious, backstabbing world. You know what those people are like. They're all bloodthirsty warmongers whose lust for power is only rivaled by their craving for wealth." Of course that is hyperbole, but it often seems like the nobility is exactly as she described. "The moment I made Red my consort, she became fair game to my enemies. And then when I dared to upset the apple cart and actually married her, not to mention sharing my authority with her..." she trails off, knowing Snow will make the logical deduction. The people that wanted to hurt Red when she was a mere consort have even more reason to do so now – that in addition to the enemies their marriage created in and of itself.

After Snow lets those words sink in for a moment, she peers up at Regina, her innocence showing through by how shocked she is anyone could want to deliberately hurt Red. "People have tried to…to hurt her? On purpose?"

"Sadly they have," Regina confirms, remembering the numerous attempts with perfect clarity, some poorly executed but some very nearly successful. "At least a half-dozen times since I set the crown upon her head I have been alerted to a plot against her life or well-being. Most were minor and unraveled before progressing past the planning stages. But the few self-contained enough to produce legitimate attempts were stopped just in the nick of time. The first year after we went public with our relationship was the worst." Regina is thinking of one specific incident.

Snow picks up on her pensive expression and approaches to sits next to Regina, concern written all over her face. "What happened?"

Regina takes a deep breath. She hates even thinking about this particular event, so to speak it aloud is especially distasteful. She steels herself before beginning the tale. "A bit before you and your shepherd deposed King George," she says, "I was due to make an inspection of the garrison near our border with what is now your realm. Rather than permit Red to accompany me, I asked her to stay behind and run things in my place – I'd wanted to know how she would handle the responsibility of rule because I was considering marriage even then. She did fine, naturally, but her ability to reign at my side should not have been my primary concern.

"Halfway to the garrison, my carriage was flagged down by a rider, out of breath and in an absolute tizzy. It took him twice as long as it should have to stutter out his explanation that something terrible had happened. Apparently not terribly long after I left the castle, Red went milling about the village below as she is apt to do. She's always loved to spend time among the commoners, being that she was one. Since they know she is sympathetic to their plight and has my ear, they boldly approach her with their troubles. Most of the time there is little I can do for them, and she knows that, but she always takes the time to listen. She says it's the least she can do when the gods have rained such good fortune down upon her. They love her for that, as do I, but it was only a matter of time before someone took advantage of her habits.

"Apparently I was responsible for the death of a man's wife who wished to repay the favor. To avoid detection, he dressed the part of a bedraggled farmer from a neighboring town. When he approached Red, she was not at all suspicious, and in the crowd, her heightened senses cannot pick up every little detail. What she didn't know was that the cowardly bastard had a knife tucked into his sleeve. She didn't even have time to react before it was in his hand. He stabbed her in the upper chest and left her to bleed out on the filthy street. She would have died had she not been a werewolf and had the surrounding villagers not quickly sprang to her aid. Those that weren't beating that son of a bitch half to death did all they could to stop the bleeding. Even with their heroic efforts, she nearly bled to death before the physician arrived."

Snow gasps in horror. "Oh, no! That's...that's horrific!"

"You have no idea," Regina replies gravely. "Upon receiving the news, I immediately abandoned my retinue and magically transported myself to the castle. When I entered the surgical ward, there was blood everywhere. There had been no major accidents or attacks in months, so I knew it was all hers, and the sight left me so terrified that I could barely put one leg in front of the other for trembling. Thankfully my father was already there to calm me with reassurances that she was still alive. He sat with me while she was being tended to. Eventually, the physician was able to repair the artery that got nicked, and Red's werewolf recovery took care of the rest. She was on her feet again two days later, almost as if it never happened.

"But I'll never forget how I felt in that moment, seeing her like that, so unnaturally pale and still. If her chest hadn't been moving with each labored breath, I would have mistaken her for dead. It was the first time it really sank in that losing her to an assassin's blade was all too real a possibility. I had been overconfident in my ability to protect her, so naturally I blamed myself for what happened. Needless to say, I set wards around our bedchambers and ordered a contingent of guards to watch her at all times when she was outside the safety of that room. Red did not appreciate those extreme measures in the slightest, but it was the only way I could face the separation without tearing my hair out due to anxiety."

Snow nods thoughtfully. "In a way, I can imagine. Once, Charming and I left Emma behind with her nanny while we went on a short day trip. While we were gone, she fell and broke her arm. She'd run away from the nanny and tripped down a set of stairs in the castle. When we got back home, I had an absolute fit. I nearly fired the woman before Charming convinced me it wasn't her fault. He had to remind me how often Emma does the same thing to us. Still, I hovered like a mother hen for weeks after that. But if something like... _that_ happened to her or Charming? I don't know what I'd do."

Regina hums her agreement with Snow's response. "Be thankful you don't know what it's like," she says. "I fretted over Red nonstop for weeks after she got better, constantly afraid that there would be follow-up attempts. I am paranoid at the best of times because of how many enemies I have, but adding her welfare to the mix pushed me to the brink. For a while I saw threats around every corner. People were afraid to even glance at her for fear of me having them arrested on the spot."

In a bold move, Snow reaches out and touches Regina's elbow. For whatever reason, the contact is not wholly unwelcome, and it is because she knows Snow's heart is in the right place that she permits it.

"I'm so sorry that happened," Snow then offers, heartfelt in earnest. But then she cocks her head to side, and furrows her brows slightly. "Why did I never hear of this, though? I make sure to keep an ear to the ground for news of Red. I never heard a peep of this attempt on her life."

"Because, like with the poisoning she suffered saving me, I arranged for the incident to be covered up," Regina explains. "If I hadn't, the whole wide world would have been made aware that it was open season on her. She makes herself vulnerable on a near daily basis by visiting the village below the castle and interacting with the common folk, all without guards being present. And she refuses my pleas for her to allow them to accompany her. Every time I assign a squad to shadow her unawares, she sniffs them out and orders them away."

Regina picks up a smooth, flat rock and flings it out over the lake, watching with dim satisfaction as it skips seven times before sinking through the surface. Red would be proud. "Even after she was hurt," she says, chest tightening at the remembrance of a time she'd lived on pins and needles where her wife's well-being was concerned, "I knew her infuriating stubborn streak would prevent her from changing her routine. And I was right. A week later, she was back in the village making herself available to those in need. It's just who she is, and that is why I love her. Do you want to know what most amazing thing about that debacle was?"

"What?" Snow asks, fully invested in the answer.

"When she first came around after being patched up," Regina tells her, eyes distant with remembering the occasion, "I chastised her for her stupidity until I was beet red in the face. All she could say was, ' _I'm just glad it wasn't you._ '"

"Oh, Regina..." Snow sighs, her expression caught somewhere between sympathy and an almost infinite affection for Red.

Regina breathes deeply and then lets it out slowly, feeling the same infinite affection for Red as Snow, only more intensely and personally and intimately. "Ever since she came to live with me she has given without thought for herself both to me and to my people. It shames me to think I do so little in return. I'd give her the world if I could, but even that would not be adequate when she deserves the sun, moon, and stars as well."

For a long time, Snow does not say anything or even move a muscle. She just sits there staring at Regina until Regina is squirming under Snow's discerning gaze.

"Can I ask you a question and you not get angry?" Snow then asks.

"I suppose that depends on the question," Regina answers pensively before heaving a great sigh at Snow's silent pleading. Her puppy eyes are almost as bad as Red's. "But I am clearly in a receptive mood, so..." She gestures lamely at Snow to ask away.

After a brief grin, Snow's eyes fill with a sage wisdom that Regina hadn't thought her capable of. "Do you love her?" she audaciously poses.

"That's a ridiculous question. Of course I do."

"And do you tell her and show her on a regular basis?"

As Snow asks the subsequent questions, Regina begins to understand what she is getting at. It is the very same point that Red makes whenever she is feeling sorry for herself or especially inadequate. When Snow bumps her elbow against Regina's and drawls, "well?", Regina answers her with a terse nod. "Every single day without fail."

"Then you are giving her all she needs," Snow then concludes, a gentle expression on her face. "All of that other stuff is meaningless to her. Believe or not, I struggled with the same feeling of indebtedness that you do, so I understand what that's like." Regina stares at her dubiously. "I'm being serious! When I met Red, I was a sheltered princess with little to no survival skills. She had just lost everything and was in mourning, but she still took me under her wing, taught me how to fish, to hunt, to cook, to forage, to track, to shoot, and how to be on alert at all times. Without Red, I would have died to exposure or starvation or some wild animal long before you ever had a chance to finish me off. And you know what? She never once asked me for anything in return. All she ever needed was my friendship, and I have to confess that bargain never felt equitable to me. My tutors drilled it into me that any good trade benefits both parties, and it just seemed to me like I was getting everything while she was giving everything."

Reaching out, Snow lays a hand on Regina's forearm, and to her confusion, Regina does not feel like batting it away. Instead it feels welcome, her words reassuring, because they have something in common now beyond the painful tragedy of Daniel's death. Red's essence lingers between them, so that while absent in body she is present in spirit. Her soothing influence tempers the hurt of old wounds so that Regina is finally able to see the extraordinary human being that has always existed behind the intolerable mooncalf she'd once believed Snow incapable of molting.

She doesn't like how it feels at first to finally lose the last vestiges of her grip on her hatred for Snow White. It has been her constant companion for over a decade, and it is very difficult to cope without it's familiarity lurking in the shadows of her mind and in her heart. But in the light of Snow's confession, it has faded into a barely recognizable blip of darkness, and no matter how hard she tries, she cannot seem to muster it again. With an unbearable pressure building within her chest, she listens as Snow continues to speak.

"So believe me when I say that I've been there. I had to learn that with Red, it isn't about what she deserves or what I can give to her that is of equal value to her love and friendship and loyalty. It's about accepting her gifts for what they are: something beautiful and precious, something to be treasured and never taken for granted. Her love alone is a priceless gift for which I am eternally grateful. In the end, all she has ever needed from either of us is to love her back. So, just keep doing that and the scales will remain balanced so far as she is concerned."

The thick lump in Regina's throat makes it difficult to swallow. The last thing she expected was to receive sage relationship advice from her former step-daughter. This is the same girl she'd once help pick out dresses for upcoming galas and whose hair she'd grudgingly braided before bed. One who had trouble making friends because of who she was and turned instead to her new step-mother for an ear to listen and a shoulder to lean on.

Ten year old Snow had been the bane of her existence, and yet her relentless optimism and almost impossible innocence made it difficult to say no. Even when she'd been dying to wrap her hands around the pale column of a throat just begging to be squeezed. So she'd played the doting step-mother as best she'd known how without alerting anyone as to her true feelings. Those unheralded duties included such indignities as teaching a blossoming teenage beauty how to navigate the many trials and discomforts of womanhood along with the complex social interactions between female peers of the nobility. She was also forced to advise her charge how to politely engage members of the opposite sex in whom her interest was piqued. When Snow's friendships failed, it was Regina who encouraged her to get back on the horse. And when the young princess experienced her first heartbreak when a crush went awry, Regina was the one who picked up the pieces and put them back together again.

How had it come to this, then? Where Snow, who just turned twenty-six, is doling out wisdom about love to a woman in her early forties? It's the height of absurdity. And yet Regina cannot help but appreciate the nugget of pure gold she's been given. Whether she'd already known this deep down is irrelevant. She needed to hear someone else say it, someone outside of her circle of friends, acquaintances, and lackeys who had no reason to be kind enough to offer such valuable feedback.

"I'll try to keep that in mind," she says, voice tighter with emotion than she would have preferred when expressing gratitude to a woman she'd once loathed with every fiber of her being. "Thank you, Snow. Not just for the unexpectedly good advice, but for being here. I sincerely appreciate it."

The smile that overtakes the diminutive, raven-haired Queen is nothing short of rapturous. It's as if that simple admission split open up the skies so that the heavens themselves were revealed. Regina purses her lips against the urge to sneer derisively, though quite against her will, her left eyelid begins to twitch. It galls her to no end that she's given Snow even the barest modicum of hope that their critically fractured relationship might one day be repaired.

"You're welcome!" Snow's reply is as effusive as her expression. That is to say, sickeningly so. "Wow. It felt so nice to hear you say that."

Feeling her mood sour, Regina grits her teeth together until her jaw aches. She needs to dispel the foolish notion immediately. "Don't get used to it. I was merely having a moment. A minor lapse in judgment, if you will."

The deflection does not phase Snow at all. "Sure, Regina, whatever you say," she chirps, continuing to beam at Regina, all disgustingly dopey just like she'd done during those early days and months after they first met. Rainbows and unicorns dance in her green eyes and Regina can almost hear the angelic chorus serenading in Snow's deluded little brain. She bites back the urge to vomit. Or issue death threats. Or light something on fire. Or all of the above in no certain order.

"Must you always be such an insufferable twerp?" she snaps, having gone surly now. She stands abruptly, dusts off the seat of her breeches, and walks away. 

Snow scoffs, then rises to follow suit. Her previous joy fades precipitously with every second. A minor victory to be sure, but Regina will take it.

"Won't you ever stop being a royal pain in the ass who can't let go of the past?"

Snow's rejoinder is almost as biting as Regina's had been. She's impressed. Seven years ago, such an impudent response would have never been save by the tip of a sword or with the protection of a nocked arrow aimed square at Regina's blackened heart. In the years since they last saw each other at the wedding, Snow has grown a spine. Perhaps ruling has afforded her an audaciousness that a life on the run as an outlaw could not.

However highly she regards Snow's reciprocal sarcasm, she is rapidly approaching her limits on enduring her defiance. She stops cold and whirls on her former arch nemesis, glaring daggers with her lips drawn into a grim line that screams out a warning not to test her patience.

"I don't see what our sordid history has to do with your present infantile behavior."

Snow crosses her arms over her chest defensively and digs her heels into the rocky soil. "It's really simple. If you can't let go of the past, I don't see any reason I have to stop being a twerp."

Regina's expression turns icy. It's time for the discussion to end before things are said that cannot be unsaid or things done that cannot be undone, neither of which Regina cannot afford to happen. Not when she still needs Snow to open the gates that guard the Sacred Grove.

"You know what?" she says, making sure to put as much sarcastic bite into her tone as possible. "I'm done with this conversation. We've wasted enough time yammering. I would like to be in the Emerald City before next week." With that, she turns away and begins striding toward Lucas, who is grazing a dozen or so feet up from the bank, just inside the tree line where the grass still grows.

"Oh, for pity's sake," she hears Snow call from behind. "Go ahead. Go on and run. Run away from the truth all you want. You'll get tired eventually."

Regina doesn't slow her pace as she shoots a taunting smirk over her shoulder. "I wouldn't count on that. Red keeps me in tip-top shape these days."

The childish growl of frustration Snow unleashes sounds the inspirational note by which a much more chipper Regina can set the pace for the rest of their journey.


	21. A Journey Interrupted

**A/N:** Sorry about the lengthy delay. I had to add the entire top 3k words to the story and got distracted by a new ship several times along the way. There shouldn't be any more similar droughts for the rest of the story.

 **Standard Disclaimer** : These lovely characters ain't mine, I just play with them gently. Please don't sue me. The mistakes are mine, though.

* * *

 **Chapter 20** – A Journey Interrupted

Now halfway between the idyllic lake and the outskirts of the sprawling forest they have been venturing through, Regina can still feel waves pure frustration wafting from Snow. For just a moment, Regina had let down her guard, allowing Snow nearly bypass her defenses than she had in a very long time – not since that last futile attempt to persuade Regina to drop their feud rather than be executed. To sneak so close to victory only to have it snatched away at the last second had to be a kick in the teeth from a bucking stallion. Imagining the metaphor as reality makes Regina smile.

 _Maybe she won't be so quick to take a mile when given an inch,_ she thinks, then immediately dismisses the possibility as highly unlikely. Snow has yet to learn when to give up on anyone or anything, especially Regina, therefore asking her to now seems as rational as asking ice to not be cold. Frankly there seems more chance of hot ice than Snow giving up on mending their broken relationship.

"We're almost there," she yells over the clap of Lucas's hooves upon the golden thoroughfare. When Snow's grumpy grunt of acknowledgement is not followed up by a snarky comment, Regina settles back in for the rest of the ride, content to revel in the petty amusement her companion's discontent inspires.

No more is said for quite some time. Minutes pass by as if seconds and then an hour as if half that. Lucas makes good time upon the Yellow Brick Road, having really hit his stride upon the increasingly smooth surface, which is owed both to the forest starting to thin and their encroaching proximity to the capitol. For that reason, they emerge into a wide, rolling plain just in time to catch the nethermost rim of the sun dip down below the inverted earthen bowl that conceals it each and every night. Regina reins in Lucas to momentarily enjoy the breathtaking panoramic view.

In the near distance, the Emerald City is nestled within a crescent valley encircled on three sides by a towering mountain range that eclipses anything to be found in the Enchanted Forest. Tall jade spires jut into the air like tapering fingers raised in greeting to those who have just broken free from the oppressive darkness of the forest. An enormous wall dotted with siege towers encircles the entire city, so vast and high as to defy the imagination. Meanwhile the Yellow Brick Road, which snakes a sinuous path through a lowland dotted with hedgerows and modest copses of oaks and cottonwood trees, slithers ever onward until terminating at the great gate towers buttressing the central portion of the wall. As long as Regina lives, she will never forget this moment and how tiny and insignificant she felt in the face of such magnificent splendor.

"Wow," Snow says, equally awestruck. "That's a really big city."

Regina chuckles. "You have a gift for understatement, dear. But yes, it is quite impressive is it not?"

She feels rather than sees Snow's answering nod as her eyes settle upon the great domed palace situated at the center of the Citadel's massive commons. Her heart speeds up and her muscles flex in anticipation. Their target is at last in sight. Somewhere within those walls they will either find a map detailing the exact location of the Grove they are seeking or else ferret out someone who has been there. And then they can get on with the business of saving Red.

A jubilant smile spreads across her lips as she makes to spur Lucas on toward their next objective on this all-important quest. But just before she kicks, Snow gasps and tightens her arms reflexively tighten around Regina's waist. She cranes her neck to the limit to see what's wrong only to find Snow staring out to the right. Regina follows her companion's eyes and echoes the surprise she heard moments ago upon glimpsing a line of horsemen approaching their flank. Soldiers in chainmail and tabards of green and gold with longswords at their hips. Regina curses herself. In her exuberance at being so near to the Emerald City, she had failed to spy out their surroundings upon exiting the forest.

For a split second she considers spurring Lucas onward and racing the mounted squad to the gates of the city but dismisses the idea as impractical. Not only is Lucas unaccustomed to such lengthy gallops and is unsuited to the task of outpacing military-bred horses, fleeing now will attract the sort of unwanted attention they have been trying to avoid. Her actions back in the village with Darion withstanding, stealth is by far the preferable approach to entering the city without prompting any suspicion. If they do not face these men here and now, either to explain their presence in a satisfactory manner or dispose of them by other means, they will be chased all the way to the gates. In which case their journey would come to an abrupt end. Regina is powerful. Powerful enough to take this squad without breaking a sweat. But the garrison housed within the Citadel is another matter entirely. In other words, there is no choice but to stay and handle the situation whatever it takes.

"I'm going to try and talk us out of this," Regina tells Snow as they watch the handful of men dismount thirty yards or so away then begin to approach on foot. "But if I can't, be ready to fight."

"Alright," Snow replies, tension radiating from her frame as she slips her arms from around Regina's waist. "Just try to be nice this time."

Regina plasters on a politicking grin. "I was nice last time." She then fixates on the soldiers before Snow can say another word and guides Lucas to turn toward them. "Greetings, gentlemen. My name is Regina and my companion here is called Snow. We're here to visit family in the Emerald City." The swiftly conjured lie flows as naturally as honey from the comb.

The squad leader deliberately locks on to their weapons as he and his men form a perpendicular line to them. "Visiting family in the city armed to the teeth? I find that interesting."

A man of middle age, the captain is of average height and is well built with long, flowing raven locks and a neatly trimmed beard. Fox-like eyes peak out from beneath thick brows, clever eyes that are adept at spotting untruths if Regina is any reliable judge. His expression conveys a cynicism that is unlikely to be swayed with words alone. As subtly as she can, she starts gathering magic at her fingertips.

"You shouldn't," she answers. "Our weapons are merely for our protection. Surely you understand there are many dangers out there for two women far from home and traveling alone."

The captain rests his hand on the pommel of his sword. "Of course. Then again, my men and I patrol this area daily and I've had this post going on a decade. Never seen you two before today. That makes me inclined to be suspicious. _Surely you understand._ "

Regina grits her teeth at having her words so casually tossed back into her face. Mastering her emotions, she nods a concession. "Certainly. You have a job to do and you are doing it well from where I sit. As for your other concern, you wouldn't have ever seen us before. Our relatives only recently moved to the City. This is our first visit."

The captain's dark brows arch with unconcealed interest. "Oh? Where are you from then?"

"A little backwash village to the south far away from here. You wouldn't have heard of it."

"Ah! What a pleasant coincidence." The captain's expression melts into a smarmy, reptilian smile. "I also hail from the south and know every hamlet between here and Quadling Country. What's the name of your village? I might even have visited during my youthful adventures."

With every word, Regina feels the noose tightening around their necks. She's talked herself into a corner now and knows she probably won't be able to wiggle out without giving them away. Though their intentions being sussed out is probably a mere formality now. The captain clearly has already taken their measure with great accuracy. All that remains is for someone to make the first move.

"Unlikely," she says, using her peripheral vision to watch for any hint of movement from the other men lined up before them. "As I said, it's a nowhere village several miles west of the Green Lake. Not many come through our parts. Which is the reason our relatives relocated."

" _Hmmm_. As of two years ago, there were no villages west of Green Lake. I think you're lying. That said, I'm a reasonable man. Tell me why you're really here and I might just be persuaded to let you go."

Regina is also good at spotting lies, and that is as surely one as those she has been spouting. She also does not need an interpreter to translate the greedy way she and Snow are now being eyed by the captain or the rest of his men. Their mouths are practically watering like a pack of starving hyenas who fortuitously stumbled across two fresh doe carcasses. There will be no convincing these men to let them go without purchasing their silence with gold or their bodies, and neither of those options are up for discussion. Only one avenue of escape remains.

"Somehow I doubt that," she says, a spell already formulating in the back of her mind. "However, in the interest of expedience, I'll tell you why we're here."

"Regina..."

Regina cuts off Snow's objection by reaching back and grasping her arm tightly. "Quiet now. Remember what I said? We'll be going with option number two." Although Snow returns the grip on her arm with as much force as she can muster, she obeys Regina by surreptitiously sliding her left hand down to grasp at her sword only to stiffen upon remembrance that she'd loaned it to Jefferson. Not rubbing Snow's nose in the stink of that foolish decision will be very difficult for Regina should they survive this encounter.

To the Captain, she then says, "Forgive the interruption. Where was I? Oh, yes. I was about to tell you that I'm here to kill that green-skinned bitch you call a ruler."

Widening eyes and the flinching muscles of a forearm grasping a sword handle provide Regina all the impetus she needs. Without warning, she summons a fireball and lobs it at the Captain, only for him to swerve out of the way at the last second. His men scatter like rats shouting at the top of their lungs, "Sorceress! Sorceress! She's gonna roast us all!" Only his iron will in the form of sternly barked commands corrals them before they scamper away, leaving him to Regina's mercy.

While this is happening, Snow deftly rolls off of Lucas, slides her bow off her shoulders, nocks her first arrow, and takes up position at Lucas's wide rear flank. Regina joins her companion on the ground, albeit wedged between Lucas and Snow and their foes. As the soldiers begin to charge over the thirty yards separating them, she unsheathes her sword in preparation for combat. When the squad is halfway across, a breath of air gusts past her cheek, preceded by the _thwap_ of a bowstring against leather bracers. An arrow lodges into the eye of the man to the Captain's left. Five heartbeats later, another _thwap_ and the man at the Captain's right falls with an arrow shaft through his throat.

 _Two down, four to go. Save some for me, Snow_ , Regina thinks, sneer in place as she tightens her grip on her sword.

One more assailant dies before Regina enters the fray, the leftmost man who takes Snow's final arrow to the temple. He drops like a felled log to the enraged cries of his comrades. And then surge at Regina, who grins as the rush of combat descends upon her. Springing forward, she meets them a few feet in front of Lucas. The men now flanking the Captain advance on her first, hoping to corral her and then push her back until Lucas's massive bulk is hemming her in so that they can finish her off much more easily.

 _Fat chance of that._ _I'd rather die on the attack than be_ _transform_ _ed_ _into a human sieve._

Needing to take the initiative, she remembers the advice of her old fencing instructor. A veteran of many wars, he used to regale Regina with tales of his battlefield exploits as he put her through the paces with a grueling intensity she would later learn to appreciate. Normally, as per her parents' instruction, he only focused on the _mano a mano_ engagements typical of fencing competitions, but there were exceptions. In addition to being hyper-competitive Regina is a curious soul by nature, so she kept imploring him for massed combat training until he eventually caved to her stubbornness. His first lesson included roping in a couple of stable hands that were decent swordsmen to teach her several methods to overcome disadvantageous odds. The one she came to prefer was striking out immediately and aggressively at the most formidable opponent in the hopes that eliminating them would demoralize the others, thus creating holes in their defenses via rage or fear or rendering them ineffective altogether when her attentions turned to them after the main target was down.

 _Utilizing that tactic is a giant risk, but it's one I have to take._ Regina grits her teeth as dreadful resolve spurs her forward. In a matter of seconds, she will either have dispatched her enemies or she will be dead. And that's just the sort of high pressure, zero margin for error environment she was bred and painstakingly prepared to thrive in.

Ducking under a swiping blade as she closes in, she rolls forward head over hell, pops back up on her feet agile as a cat, and cuts through the Captain's lagging defenses before his men can even respond to her unexpected offensive. Two parries of sideswipes, one block of an overhead swing, and a sidestep of a slash at his gut are all the veteran soldier can muster before Regina neatly skirts his clumsy, rushed reply and slides her blade into the left side of his chest. After a choked groan, he falls backward to the ground with a great _thud._

Everything stops for several heartbeats. Regina surveying her kill with prideful satisfaction and the remaining soldiers looking on in shocked dismay. Then a voice in the back of her head starts screaming that the fight isn't over yet. Turning back toward the two men left standing, she levels them with an inviting smile.

"Who's next?" she says, then assumes her favorite pose, knees slightly bent, sword arm at a ninety degree angle over her head with her other arm extended out.

And then something unexpected happens. The two men glance at one another, a frenzied conversation taking place in the midst of the tense silence. One of them cuts eyes back toward the forest, the other nods, and a split second later they are both sprinting away as fast as their feet can carry them.

Ordinarily, Regina might have let them go. But this mission being what it is means she cannot afford to leave survivors of this encounter to potentially spread news of what has happened back to the city. Back to Zelena. That can't happen. Red's life depends upon it.

The men are barely away when Regina casts a spell that binds the legs of one, sending him careening forward into the dirt. The other she spears through the spine with her sword in one clean toss, a skill she has always been rather proud of. He falls in a heap of jellied limbs then goes still. With the final remaining opponent disabled, Regina takes her sweet time fetching her sword out of the back of the man she skewered and then saunters over to the remaining victim waiting to be dispatched.

"She'll stop you," the man says, eyes wild with terror and rage.

Regina smiles confidently, all teeth and no quarter. "I don't think she will. You've seen what I can do. I'm her equal in magic and no one here is my equal with the blade."

"You haven't met Jilly yet."

Regina's brow quirks up. "Who?"

"The most dangerous and beautiful woman in the realm. She's killed more men than anybody but the Witch since she came here. Best with the sword, too," the man boasts, clearly believing his assertion.

She has never heard of such a person, which is not that surprising seeing as she knows next to nothing about Oz except what little her prior research and her experience to date traveling through this strange world has yielded. Not that it would matter if she had anyway. Whoever should oppose the mission to save Red will meet the same fate as these men. Be it Zelena or this Jilly character.

"Not anymore, she's not," she says. "And I'd wager her kill count pales in comparison with mine." That old, familiar streak of malice creeps outside of its container then, and as Snow lingers hesitantly behind her shoulder, she strides up into the soldier's personal space. "When the Witch came to my realm, cursed my wife and killed our friend, she awakened a monster that has been sleeping for a very long time. Well, she's awake now. Awake and thirsty for blood. So I do hope I come across this Jilly person while I'm here. I'd love to add another trophy to my already impressive collection, which is about to grow by one."

Just as the man opens up his mouth to reply, Regina flicks her wrist, a grotesque sneer twisting her lips, and spears her razor sharp blade upward through the soft tissue of the man's underjaw. Eyes blowing wide, he gurgles helplessly as blood gushes from the wound. Upon encountering the expected resistance of bone at the top of his mouth, she pushes harder until she feels his palate give way to inevitability. And then the blade slides home into gelatinous gray matter. She watches with grim satisfaction as her victim's eyes glossify, he twitches a time or two, and then goes limp as a ragdoll. To prevent herself from being knocked over along with him, she swiftly slides her sword free then gives him a helpful shove backward. The ground thuds with the impact of the sixth man to be relieved of the pains of life in as many minutes.

"Regina...why? He was _helpless_!"

The disgust evident in that question is enough to provoke Regina's fury. She swirls on Snow, blade dripping blood, eyes flashing with an animus that refuses to abate after the excitement of the kill.

"Don't you dare question my methods. If I had let him go, he would've run to the first village, saddled a horse, and rode straight for the City. And then what would have become of our quest? I could not permit that to happen. I did what I had to do, just as I warned you I would before we departed." When Snow does not respond, appearing far too terrified, she glances around at the bodies strewn about the field and realizes they cannot afford to leave them there. Discovery would surely sound an alarm that might end their expedition prematurely. "Now, help me dispose of these bodies."

Snow gapes at her a heartbeat before squawking out her reply. "How are we supposed to do that? Last I checked we don't have any shovels."

Out of the corner of her eye, Regina glimpses the line of trees and shrubs announcing the forests end. A fantastic plan then pops into her mind. "Who said anything about burying them? There's a perfectly good forest nearby teeming with all sorts of creatures, many of whom I'm sure are quite famished. We'll simply load the bodies up on Lucas here and deliver them a hearty meal."

For a second it looks like Snow might object to the callous but efficient plan, but then she catches Regina's glare and wisely thinks better of it. "Fine. Let's get this over with and be on our way."

"I couldn't agree more, dear," Regina says, smiling, and then they go about the unwholesome business at hand.

The process of dragging six bodies over to Lucas, hoisting them with great difficulty up and over his back two per load so that they are draped over him like fleshy blankets, and then guiding Lucas back into the fringes of the forest where they quickly unload them takes far longer than Regina would have preferred. But Snow does not complain any more and they get the job done, so she is rather happy with the results. By the time they are done, the sun has nearly disappeared, leaving them little time with which to complete the journey to the Emerald City. While would be more prudent to camp out in the forest for the night and wait until dawn to resume the journey, Regina is uninterested in prudence.

They set out back down the Yellow Brick road immediately after making their last deposit within the forest. As Regina spurs Lucas into a steady trot, she offers an earnest prayer to any gods that may be listening that the rest of the ride prove uneventful. And for once, miracle of all miracles, they actually listen.

* * *

It takes another two hours and change for them to reach the outskirts of the Emerald City on horseback. The ride is accomplished in total silence, for which Regina is eternally grateful. Any more of Snow's uppity lip and she'd have seriously contemplated unseating her with Lucas at full gallop.

Once right outside the city gates, they find an available hitching post where Regina carefully ties Lucas. Before leaving him, she casts wards over him just in case. She can't have any harm coming to the beautiful creature who is fast burrowing into her heart.

With their transportation secure, they spend another half-hour attempting to infiltrate the loosely guarded entrances. Night has fallen in earnest, so only a skeleton crew is left to man the posts at each lofty gate within the city's impressive siege walls. After much frustration, they are finally able to slip through by feigning they belong to a party of bedraggled merchants. Regina aids the disguise by magically altering their clothes to appear more dirty and crude. The road-weary group are filtering into the city to sell their wares when the markets open on the morrow at dawn, which is drawing much nearer than Regina would have preferred. Already the faintest hints of red and orange can be seen over the horizon. They must hurry if they're to use the cover of night to slip inside the castle.

Once through the gates, they immediately make their way toward the palace from whence Zelena has long ruled Oz unopposed. As they arrive at a row of bronze statues nearby a large courtyard surrounding the Palace, Regina spots their hired hand awaiting them.

Darion is nonchalantly leaning back against a depiction of a stout, bearded human man clutching the hand of a tall, lithe faerie woman with pointed ears that curve slightly backward rather than straight up as those of the elves. Each holds a bejeweled eagle scepter in the outer hand, arms extended toward the sky. The engraving on the pedestal is barely visible with the low light of the many wrought-iron lamps lining the street. It reads:

KING PASTORIA AND QUEEN LURLINE

VICTORS OVER THE DARK ELVES AND VANQUISHERS OF THE BEAST FOREVER

MAY THEIR REIGN BE PEACEFUL AND PROSPEROUS

"I've done as you asked," Darion says in lieu of greeting, arresting Regina's attention from the marvelous statue. "The Witch departed hours ago. Now, release me from my oath and pay me what I'm owed."

Regina appraises him slowly, pleased that he squirms uncomfortably under her gaze. "Not until you've done one last thing," she says, no quarter to be found in her tone. "Is there a way in to the palace we can use to avoid detection? Zelena may be gone but I'm sure she has alerted her servants and guards to be on the lookout for us."

Darion narrows his eyes, looking like he wishes to refuse. His resolve wavers under Regina's relentless glare. "There is a way," he sighs. "A servant's entrance to the east is attached to the scullery. Maids and guards are almost constantly milling in and out of it at every hour. This late, it will not be heavily guarded. Most of the garrison is either asleep or on patrol about the city or outside the walls."

She hums her assent, then taps her chin a few times. "What about once we're inside?"

"Go through the scullery. It will take you into the main hallway," Darion replies succinctly. "Follow that north through a series of corridors that will eventually lead to the Royal chambers. That is where the Witch has taken up residence. If there are any maps of the Grove, you will find them in her chambers. You will know them when you see them."

Satisfied she has the information that she needs, Regina gives him a condescending smile. "Thank you, Darion," she drawls. "Your help has been most appreciated." She produces a sizable pouch of gold from her belt, his promised payment, and then tosses it to him before waving off into the distance. "Scurry away now like the rat you are. I release you."

Darion makes a noise of offense as he catches the pouch, but does not comment as he pushes off from the wall. He sulks off into the city beyond, his reward jingling with every step.

"Do you think that was wise? Letting him go?" Snow asks, seeming apprehensive.

Regina looks at her with unveiled surprise. "Would you have rather I killed him?"

Snow's eyes grow wide. "No! Absolutely not! I just..." she sighs and scrubs her forehead. "I worry about whether he will find the nearest patrol and report us."

"He won't," Regina assures her with a secretive smile. "When I waved in his direction just now, I cast a spell on him that will block his memory for at least three hours. It should be taking effect right about now and will buy us enough time to do what we must and get out."

While Snow looks a tiny bit sick at Regina possessing that kind of power and the ability to use it without being detected, mainly she appears relieved. "Well, that's a relief," she breathes, and Regina smiles internally at her accurate diagnosis of Snow's moods. "Let's get on with it, then. I don't want to be around when that spell wears off."

"A splendid idea," Regina chirps, and then moves away from the shop and tentatively toward the large, open courtyard which is not even obstructed by so much a single tree.

Because of how risky it is to cross, even at night, she decides to circle around the palace along the edges of the developed section of the city which would normally be alive with bustling activity in the daylight. What few nocturnal citizens prowl the streets are either ambivalent to the presence of two strange women or ignore them altogether. That their presence here is unremarkable indicates that Zelena has not instituted any sort of curfew, which works in their favor. To further blend in and deflect suspicion, she takes Snow's hand, much to the surprise of her diminutive companion.

As she leads them around the circular outskirts of the commercial portion of the city, Regina explains herself to Snow out of the corner of her mouth. "Act like we're relatives traveling together. It didn't fool the soldiers but it should work well enough here."

"Got it," Snow nods curtly. When they pass by a middle aged woman flanked by two hawk-nosed men who peer at them curiously, Snow elbows Regina and points to one of the towers rising up above the Palace. "Look, cousin," she says with exaggerated excitement, "the tips of the towers are like glowing emerald onions!"

"So they are, cousin," Regina replies, smiling down at Snow, and it turns more appreciative when she notices the woman give them a welcoming smile of her own before passing by. She winks at Snow, in good spirits. "Well done."

"Thank you," Snow beams, but her joy is short lived when she turns and spots something in the near distance. She indicates toward it discreetly. "Look. It's the scullery."

Regina follows the direction of Snow's finger and sees that they have rounded the palace to a portion containing a door that is currently closed. She recognizes it as the scullery door by the maid that comes out a second later carrying a large basket, presumably to pick up supplies ahead of another long day of grueling labor or perhaps a load of laundry from some important citizen who is afforded the privilege of the highly skilled Palace staff caring for their linens. The woman, in her overconfidence born of routine, leaves the door propped open. It is an opening Regina cannot allow to pass by without seizing it.

She takes a quick look around, and when she sees that there are even fewer people out and about in this section of the city, she tugs Snow by the hand and all but drags her across the courtyard. By the time they step through a servant entrance left open by the careless maid, the sun has inched over the horizon so that it casts a faint orange onto the pavement and buildings of the still brilliantly shining city.

Once inside, she whispers at Snow, "Stay close. I can conceal us with my magic, but it works best at proximity." Snow nods and shuffles up to Regina's side. Summoning her power, Regina casts a spell that slightly alters their visages and transforms their clothing into the garb similar to that worn by the scullery maid she'd seen exit just moments before.

"Come," she then instructs, pushing away from the wall, "we've no time to dawdle."

To further sell their disguise, she pilfers an empty linen basket, and then maneuvers through the scullery into an abandoned hallway. The lack of servants milling about is worrying, but Regina does not allow that unfortunate detail to deter her. Waving Snow on behind her, she steps out and makes her way down the northernmost hallway. Thankfully her lucks holds true, and after rounding several corners, they arrive at what appears to be the royal wing of the palace. It is a far cry from what she had expected given the grandeur of the Emerald City.

The hallway belonging to the Royal Family of Oz is permeated in shadow, quite unlike other corridors which are at lit by candlelight and seem regularly polished and cared for in spite of the current occupant, and appears strangely dead considering it is made of brick and mortar and wood and metals which do not live. Nevertheless it is dreary and sorrowful as if having been sucked dry of what scant expressiveness belongs to such inanimate materials. There was once a time Regina's own wing of the Dark Palace had resembled this mournful hallway. As with everything else in her life and kingdom, Red has breathed new life into the castle, in the process banishing many of the shadows Regina cast over it during her precipitous descent into madness. This hallway reminds her of that dark era that she has unkindly dubbed The Dark Days. It is disturbing in a way that makes her aware of just how hopeless she'd once been and how she might again be should the mission fail.

With reinvigorated determination, she squares her shoulders and begins her search with Snow following close behind. It takes inspecting nearly every room along the corridor before Regina sticks her head inside the last chambers and spots the ostentatious green and black décor. She knows in an instant she's in the right place.

After a preparatory breath, she slips in through the door and then shuts it behind her once Snow joins her inside. Turning toward a nearby sconce, Regina snaps her fingers, and it comes to life, bathing the room in a soft orange glow. Her purpose for infiltrating Zelena's chambers is to find something, anything that could provide a clue as to her sister's plans or perhaps give an insight any potential weaknesses. But before she can even begin the search, she sees something glinting in the corner of the room, something large and green and shrouded in shadows.

"Zelena," she growls, her magic flaring to life on instinct. She reflexively raises her hand to summon a fireball and wastes no time in launching it in the direction of her sister.


	22. A Girl From Kansas

**A/N:** Thanks to everyone who has taken the time to leave a review! I really appreciate it.

 **Standard Disclaimer** : These lovely characters ain't mine, I just play with them gently. Please don't sue me. The mistakes are mine, though.

* * *

 **Chapter 21** – Just A Girl From Kansas

As it turns out, what Regina saw was not Zelena at all. She only realizes that when her fireball slams into the solid surface of a huge jade crystal tucked into the back corner against the wall. She steps toward it hesitantly, unsure of what she'll find, only to halt abruptly upon catching a glimpse of what is inside.

Fingers belonging to gloved hands are held out in front of a distinctly female figure. One of said hands is gripping a short sword while the left is held out as if in warning. Jade encases the woman in totality from head to toe. It takes a second to register that the crystal is a prison. Or more accurately a stasis chamber built to keep a person alive but in suspended animation. Whoever this poor sap trapped inside it is, she is of great importance to Zelena to be kept on display like this in her private chambers.

"My goodness. There's a woman stuck in there!" Snow declares the obvious from where she has advanced to inspect the crystal casing. Curiosity prompts her to peer inside. "Oh, wow! She's beautiful. And also looks really fierce. I bet she could take me out easily. Hey!" She glances up at Regina. "I wonder what your sister wants with her?"

"I don't know," Regina answers, drawing closer to the crystallized woman.

Snow is correct in her assessment of the woman's attractiveness. She is striking in a rugged sense. Clad in a sky blue gingham dress, which seems incongruent with her stern expression, her waist is cinched by a leather girdle bearing a scabbard holding a sword with a circular silver pommel. A field gray cloak is about her shoulders which flows down to her knees. Archers gloves cover her hands and there is a bow, held in place by the tension on the string, diagonally slung across her body just above an ordinary looking quiver.

Physically speaking, the woman cuts an imposing figure, tall and strong yet undeniably feminine at the same time. Dark curls are tied back into a messy arrangement that boldly declares her to be every bit the warrior she appears: sturdy in body, fierce of heart, and iron of will. And yet her facial features contain a softness to them, an innate kindness that would appeal to Red's sensibilities were she here to judge the woman's character at a glance. Regina is not normally one to put stock in first-glimpse assessments, but she has to admit this prisoner has piqued her interest.

Intending to free the woman at once, she raises her hand to the crystal surface and then gently probes it to ascertain its magical properties. She grins when she recognizes the root spell. It is one that Rumple had taught her long ago as a means of storing fragile items or preserving delicate specimens on long journeys. A similar enchantment was used to ward off decay from Daniel's body. Upon discovering what her mother had done to her precious stable boy, Regina put her new magical training to the test working out the mechanics of the spell. She even managed to improve it in later years. Needless to say, this is something she can easily undo.

She turns to Snow with a mildly excited grin. "Let's find out who my sister's guest is, shall we?" And with that announcement, she instructs her magic to begin unraveling the crystallization spell.

The process of deconstruction takes more energy then she would have liked to expend, but within seconds, the prison has been dissolved into so much verdant vapor. Freed from the grips of Zelena's magic, the woman slumps forward, jelly legged and off balance. Snow reacts quickly to catch her, almost falling herself in the process, so Regina steps in to steady them both. It takes a moment for the former prisoner, now blinking furiously and wobbling in place, to recover her bearings. Once she does, she peers around the room in total confusion.

When her piercing azure gaze lands on Regina, her brows furrow deeply. Regina notices now that the woman's complexion is fairer than her own yet darker than Snow's – not naturally, but from regular exposure to the sun. She wonders if the stranger might hail from a kingdom to the north she has passing familiarity with, but refrains from asking when they are being critically assessed to determine if they are a threat.

After a moment of intense study the woman relaxes just a touch, having apparently decided they mean her no harm. "Who are you? What happened to me?" she asks, words showing no hint of the accent common to those hailing from Beowulf's land of ice and snow.

Regina introduces herself and then does the same for Snow, much as she had earlier in the village in which they procured Lucas.

"Pleased to meet you, Queens Regina and Snow," the woman replies. "My name is Dorothy Gale from Kansas."

 _Kansas? What a strange name for a country_ , Regina thinks, though aloud she says, "Greetings, Lady Dorothy. If I may address your second concern first, I am not certain what happened to you beyond the fact that you had an unfortunate run in with my half-sister. In this realm, she is referred to as the Wicked Witch."

Dorothy's pink lips curl downward in disgust and her steely blue eyes glint with barely repressed fury. "Zelena. Yes, I remember now. She wanted to breach the Sacred Grove I'm sworn to protect. For what purpose, I don't know. I do remember trying to stop her, though. Guess I failed. Horribly, as you just saw. Tell me, did she succeed in getting through the gates?"

Regina's eyes brighten at Dorothy's mention of the Sacred Grove, and she grows even more excited to learn the woman is a guardian of that place. Fortune has once again smiled upon the quest to save Red. If anyone can help her reach the Grove, it is this woman. But then Regina's mind catches up with the rest of the story and her expression falters.

"Sadly, yes, she did," she tells the beautiful stranger. "We're here because of what she did next, in fact."

At the news, Dorothy appears stricken, and responds with mild panic. "What did she do? I must know! Did she destroy the Grove?! And what about Glinda? Before the witch attacked she flaunted Glinda's fate over me, how she had seduced the only Good Witch remaining in Oz and imprisoned her." Dorothy's lips curl with disgust. "How she corrupted Glinda's purity with her filthiness."

Regina shakes her head, and then bites her lip. "I'm sorry to say I do not know of any Glinda, nor have Snow or I heard tale of her fate," she tells Dorothy regretfully. "However, as far as I know the Grove remains in tact. Zelena only wanted a leaf from the trees that grow within." Regina hates recounting the events that had lead to her coming to Oz, hates reliving that awful moment she'd found Red on the floor next to the tub, that cursed green apple with one bite missing from it clutched by stiffened fingers. Yet even though the memory brings her pain, she feels that Dorothy should be at least minimally informed as to what happened. "With that leaf, she concocted a sleeping curse that even True Love's kiss cannot break."

Dorothy gasps aloud at that, looking even more grief-stricken than before. It is clear that she blames herself for failing in her charge, even though there is little she could have done to stop Zelena when Regina only just barely managed to fend her off.

Looking up at Regina with liquid blue eyes, Dorothy appears apprehensive about discovering what happened after that, and yet compelled at the same time to know the whole truth. "What did she do with the sleeping curse?"

Regina is sure that her expression reveals the answer far before her words due to the way Dorothy blanches and falters a step. Snow reacts quickly to buttress the recovering, shell-shocked woman. Even so, Dorothy is still lightly trembling as Regina recounts Zelena's mischief.

"She applied it to an apple and then made sure that it found its way into my wife's hands while I was still asleep," she explains, averting her eyes so that a horrified Dorothy cannot see the tears that are pooling at her lids. But with her voice rough and laden with emotion, she is sure her distress is evident all the same. "It is my belief, though I cannot confirm it, that she slipped something into my wine the night before. My wife is a very early riser, and normally I am up with her, but that morning I slept nearly until noon. When I woke, I stumbled upon her already under the sway of the curse. Zelena then confronted me and confirmed what she had done. She told me she cursed my wife as a means to make me suffer."

She returns her gaze to Dorothy to find tears welling upon the woman's long lashes, apology written all over her face. For some reason, Regina feels tender toward Dorothy, perhaps because the inner strength and goodness that shine through the distress currently afflicting her is an unbidden reminder of Red. So much so that Regina's chest constricts, briefly making it difficult to draw a breath. Few would express such sympathy for strangers. That Dorothy is doing so right now is convincing evidence her new acquaintance would be a woman with whom Red would get along splendidly.

With her heart in her throat, Regina reflexively reaches to brush Dorothy's tears away. The action is achingly familiar to her, as she has done so many times for her wife.

"Do not blame yourself, my dear," she tells the grief-stricken Dorothy, who accepts the comfort with a strained smile. "It is not your fault. It's mine." Dropping her hand, she exhales slowly and shakes her head ruefully. "You see, Zelena was apparently abandoned when she was a newborn. Rather than place the blame upon our mother where it belongs, she has cast it all upon me. Everything she has done is to the end of attaining revenge for all she believes I stole from her by virtue of being born."

"But it was not you who failed to protect the Grove," Dorothy disagrees vehemently. "That was my duty and mine alone. I swore an oath to Ozma to protect it with my life, an oath I have now broken twice over. Your wife is paying the price for my ineptitude."

"That may be true," Regina says, careful to practice tact that she might win Dorothy's favor. "But I know from experience how formidable a foe Zelena is. She wields magic beyond any human I have ever encountered. There is likely nothing you could have done to stop her. I, on the other hand, can. And that is precisely why I am here."

Dorothy turns big doe eyes up at Regina that are swimming with so much more than unshed tears. It seems the young Ms. Gale is incapable of concealing her feelings, that she is one of those rare people who wears her heart on her sleeve in spite of how delicate it is or how easily such openness can lead to it being trampled upon or taken advantage of. To live that way requires a brand of bravery that Regina has never possessed, but has nonetheless come to appreciate having lived with such an individual for the past seven years. The similarities between Red and Dorothy, it seems, are approaching eerie levels.

"If she is as powerful as you say, what can you do stop her?" Dorothy inquires, appearing acutely skeptical all of the sudden. "She has crushed every enemy who dared to oppose her, and laid waste to Oz with every step she has taken. She drove Ozma into hiding, disbanded the Council of Directions, and housed me in that infernal prison for over a year. The entire time I was imprisoned, I was fully aware of what went on around me, unable to move or speak. All I could do was watch as she took great delight in sitting for hours, staring at me, laughing at me, taunting me with her words and mocking my virtue by her unspeakably vile actions. And now I find out that she has not only conquered Oz, but crossed worlds merely to curse your wife because she _can_. Everything she has set out to accomplish has fallen into place for her. What chance do any of us have?"

Dorothy's description of what happened to her sparks a memory from the afternoon Regina discovered Red comatose in their washroom. During the showdown with her sister, Zelena had mentioned she was previously considering adding Red to her collection. At the time, she assumed it was a veiled reference to enslaving Red by taking her heart and then forcing her to comply with untoward sexual advances. It's hard to say which fate would have been worse for Red, that or what was forced upon young Ms. Gale.

Troublesome as those thoughts are, Regina gives the brunette beauty a tender smile meant to reassure. "Our chances are not so dim as you believe, my dear. You may be correct that the tides have moved in Zelena's favor of late, but she has not been without a few setbacks of her own. I also am sorceress of renown in our world and was able to drive her away from my home, matching her magic with my own. If I did so once, I can do so again. However, if events unfold according to my plans, violence in the near future may just be entirely avoidable." When Dorothy draws her brows together in confusion, Regina explains, "Earlier, Snow and I sowed the seeds of a little misdirection. My sister currently believes us to be taking a much more circuitous route to the mountain pass leading to the Grove, which I intend to bypass altogether."

"And just how do plan on doing that?" Snow asks, finally speaking.

Regina has not bothered to read Snow in to the full details of her planned course of action. For one, Snow does not need to know for it to work. Secondly, she does not want to hear her complain about the moral ambiguity of them. And perhaps most crucially, she does not not want to take any chances with her plans being found out should the unforeseen happen and Snow wind up in Zelena's clutches. Resisting traditional attempts at coercing information may be possible for Snow, though Regina doubts even that, but there are means Zelena can employ to force the information loose without consent.

Be that as it may, now that they are so tangibly close to the goal, there is less risk involved in Snow being clued in.

"With the help of Ms. Gale here, of course," Regina replies, gesturing toward Dorothy, who nods.

"I would be happy to show you the way there," is Dorothy's agreeable response.

Regina smiles cryptically. "That won't be necessary, dear. All I require is your memory."

Dorothy opens her mouth to question Regina's enigmatic statement, but is stopped when Snow jerks in place, leans toward the door, and holds her hand up for silence.

"Did you hear that?" the former bandit asks, eyes cast down, focused on the floor as she strains to listen.

"I hear nothing," Regina tells her, and it is true. The only sounds she can detect are those of three women breathing and the faint rustling of their clothes whenever they shift footing. In the back of her mind, she wonders how Snow can hear something that she cannot and files the tidbit away for further investigation. By the look on her companion's face, whatever she is hearing is troubling. "What is it? What did you hear?"

"I don't know," Snow answers, voice worried. "It's strange. Like the sound made by a squeaky wheel on a dining cart after its gone too long without oil. Only it's jumbled up with a low pitched, almost rumbling laughter that makes my spine tingle."

Dorothy stiffens defensively at the description, eyes going wide as saucers. "Oh, no," she breathes. "They're here."

Regina narrows her eyes at the young woman. "Who, exactly, is here, Ms. Gale?" she presses, and then goes stock still. A chill shoots up her spine, starting at the base and working its way to her neck, bringing with it a shocking cold that causes her flesh to prickle and bumps to appear upon it. She hears the faint sounds of sinister, maniacal laughter, followed by the very same squeaking Snow just described. "What the hell is that?"

"It's the Wheelers," Dorothy replies, and Regina can see the abject fear written all over her. "Or rather the Witch's warped version of them. Freeing me must have alerted them. They're coming for us." Shouldering past Snow and Regina, Dorothy makes her way toward the door, suddenly in full control of her motor functions again. Adrenaline, it seems is a cure all for stasis-induced weakness. As she strides to the door, she throws back over her shoulder, "We have to leave now, before they reach the hallway. There is a concealed passageway in the guest chambers that will lead back to the scullery."

Upon reaching the door, Dorothy presses her ear against it and listens briefly. The tension builds to oppressive levels. She springs away a moment later, and when she turns back to Regina and Snow, there is a sense of urgency in her posture that indicates the time for questions is over.

"Follow me," she says, waving them to her. "Now! If they get too close, we'll all be doomed!"

Rather than object, Regina places her hand onto Snow's back and pushes the stiff-legged monarch forward. "After you," she insists. Her touch snaps Snow out of her stupor, and together they head toward Dorothy.

Once all three are gathered at the door, Dorothy carefully pries it open, then just her head out through the crack to peer both directions down the hall. The sound of the Wheelers' approach is growing noticeably louder indicating the threat has almost, yet not quite, caught up to them. Upon confirming that simple deduction visually, she throws the door fully open and then motions for them to follow her as she steps out into the hall. They dutifully obey the silent command and trail along with stealthy movements after the young woman in the blue gingham dress. After one right turn down the hallway, Dorothy barges through the very next door on the left.

Regina enters behind Snow and trails closely as her former enemy moves with Dorothy over to a bookshelf against the inner wall closest to the door. The antique piece of furniture looks perfectly ordinary to her. Its shelves, caked with several layers of dust due to poor maintenance, contain rows of volumes in various states of wear. At a glance, she recognize some as scientific texts, while some are history, and others works of poetry. It is a particularly pristine book of poetry that Dorothy reaches for. Regina starts to ask if the brunette warrior intends to bore the enemy to death by reciting trite verse, but is stricken mute when Dorothy gives the spine a forceful yank. The action releases the bookshelf from the wall to reveal a hidden passageway behind it.

Startled at the development, she follows Dorothy and Snow into the cramped tunnel, faintly illuminated by what ambient light filters in from the room. Once inside, she grimaces with unease. Cobwebs and spiderwebs dangle from the ceiling and a fine coat of dust covers every surface. The secret passage has clearly languished in disuse for some time. Regina idly wonders if wars and coups were at one point so frequent in this realm that such features were necessary additions to any castle. Her own palace features no such pathways that she is aware of, not that she would have need of them when her magic can take her anywhere she has ever visited in an instant. It seems a waste of square footage for such an intricate network to exist, although she is rather grateful at this moment that the architects who designed this palatial abode did not agree with her.

Many other questions she has for Dorothy flit through her mind then. Not only regarding the palace's construction, but about Dorothy herself and of Ozma and the general state of affairs in Oz. Being the Dark One's star pupil gave Regina more advantages than magical powers. Among those perks was access to information no one else was privy to save a select few individuals – like Jefferson – such as awareness of the many other worlds one could visit with the proper mode of transportation. Rumplestiltskin kept detailed journals of his dealings in each of them in addition to maps and various tomes of histories and knowledge pertaining to the realms. Being a voracious reader and a trophy Queen with plenty of idle time meant she devoured quite a bit of that material. Oz, sadly, was not among Rumple's records. She remembers him mentioning it once, though, and that his nose had wrinkled as he spoke of a world he declared unworthy of his time and attention. Something about a group of meddling witches and irksome tiny people maliciously wielding lollipops.

Regina is intensely curious about Oz, to say the least, but she holds her tongue in hopes a more opportune moment to bend Dorothy's ear will present itself. Resigned to keeping her mind on present circumstances and problems, she watches as their guide returns to the opening to fetch a torch from a sconce just inside the passageway. Once it is in hand, Dorothy turns the sconce she'd retrieved it from, causing the secret door to slide shut. When it seals off, they are immediately enshrouded in pitch darkness.

Regina summons a ball of light in her palm, and then with the other, indicates toward the torch. "May I?" Dorothy nods, face grave though her eyes are lit up with fascination at the magic held within Regina's palm. They flash with childlike delight when Regina snaps her fingers and sparks a fire to engulf the kindling on the torch-head. She extinguishes the magical ball of illumination and then grins at Dorothy's rapt interest while Snow rolls her eyes.

"You're such a showoff," the most diminutive member of their three woman group comments.

Regina brushes past her with a shrug to stand at Dorothy's side, but not before leaving Snow with a snarky comment. "If you got it, flaunt it." Once standing with their new companion, Regina gestures toward the darkness that awaits them down the tunnel. "Lead the way, Ms. Gale."

Drawing in a deep breath, Dorothy squares her shoulder. "Very well, follow me." And then she begins pushing down the tunnel, knocking down cobwebs as she goes.

"Well, this is certainly a useful concept," Regina comments as they make their way down the foreboding passageway. The tight quarters are making her snarky. "I'll have to commission my architects to install such a passage in my chambers, that way I can sneak out without waking Red when she starts snoring."

"Regina, now is not the time," Snow growls, and Regina can hear by the nerves in her voice that she is clearly feeling out of sorts in the enclosed and incredibly eerie space. "I'm sure Dorothy doesn't want to hear about _any_ of Red's nocturnal noises."

"Watch it, pipsqueak," Regina snaps back, face heating up at the innuendo. "I wasn't making any sort of sordid reference."

"No, it's alright," Dorothy speaks up quickly as if attempting to head off their bickering before it gets ugly. "I'd like to know more about her." She glances back apologetically over her shoulder at Regina. "About your wife, I mean, and obviously not...well, you know." Even in the relatively dim firelight cast by the torch, Regina can see Dorothy flushing with mortification. Her innocence is almost precious.

"Of course," she acquiesces. As she talks about Red, she finds that it soothes her, calms her frayed nerves, and helps to distract her from the way the passage gets narrower as they head deeper into it. "As Snow revealed, her name is Red. It's not her given name, but one she took for herself, which is story unto itself. She is tall and very beautiful and kind to a fault. She is beloved by our people. Wherever we go, children flock around her and people strain and press in just to touch her. It infuriates me that she allows them such proximity, but she refuses to segregate herself because she loves them in a way I never can and feels she owes them the opportunity to interact with her on a physical level. She says she does it because of all they've given to her, which pretty much describes her to a tee. She is the most selfless and wonderful woman I have ever known. My greatest point of pride is to be her spouse."

"It sounds like you love her very much," Dorothy then comments as she brushes a dusty web out of her face.

Regina swallows thickly before responding. "I do. More than anything. More than my crown or my magic or my life. I wouldn't be here risking them all otherwise." Which she is in some way or another.

The threat to her life is self-explanatory considering Zelena blatantly declared intentions to kill her. But there are subtler risks involved, such as the one to her crown. Should the council view her reckless expedition as evidence of incompetence, even if it is successful it may well ignite more rebellious sentiments. And then there is the matter of Zelena, whose magic is so powerful that combating it may very well sap Regina's own for good if she cannot not find a way to subdue the Witch without wholly expending her energies.

For a magician, emptying oneself of all magical energies in any pursuit is akin to jumping off a cliff blindfolded. There is no telling what will be waiting beneath. Will it be rocks or water? Death, permanent disfigurement, or a miraculous last second salvation? The outcome, according to Rumplestiltskin, is one determined on an individual basis for which Regina has no point of reference. She has never pushed herself as far as she will have to in order to stop her sister, which is most troublesome.

Thankfully, Dorothy nods in understanding rather than pressing for elaboration, and continues to lead them down the tunnel. A moment later, she poses another question, a bit more hesitantly. "May I ask if your marriage was arranged?"

"Heavens, no!" Regina replies, as if the concept is disgusting, which it is. Personal experience taught her that.

"I didn't mean any offense. I'm sorry!" Dorothy immediately apologizes, causing Regina to recall what she'd said in her own mind. "I only ask because both in this world and even in some cases the world I'm from, people of your station generally follow such archaic traditions."

Regina is intrigued by the little tidbit of information Dorothy casually dropped of her hailing from another world. Another kernel of interesting information to file away.

"I'm not offended, dear," she says, not wanting Dorothy to think she is upset. "I didn't mean that you couldn't ask. I only meant that no, our marriage was not arranged."

Dorothy looks back behind her shoulder again, this time smiling gently. "Then you're lucky. From what I have observed, most arranged marriages are miserable. If not that, then they are most certainly empty. It's really sad people have to do that."

Regina hums her agreement. "And you'd be correct to be sad. I once was a part of such an arrangement, which is how I gained my title. It was, as you so aptly stated, a miserable life."

Regina feels Snow cringe at the tactless mention of her marriage to Leopold. She knows that Red has told Snow as much of the truth that Regina had been willing to allow the former heir to her throne access to. And while it was a highly diluted version of events, it was enough to taint Snow's memories of her father forever. Regina is not at all sorry it happened. Snow needed to know. Leopold may have been a doting father and a respected king, but he was not the saintly individual he portrayed himself as publicly.

"My husband passed more than a decade ago," she then continues, heedless of Snow's opinion on the present discussion. "I would have never consented to such a thing again. Red was my consort before she was my Queen. I chose to wed her as she did me, and it is a choice that for my part has not once been regretted."

Dorothy pauses for a moment and turns to face Regina. "It sounds like quite a romantic tale." She seems to have been affected greatly by what little she has heard, and it is endearing for Regina to know that her love story can draw such a reaction from so pure a soul as Dorothy Gale seems to be.

"It very much is," Regina smiles, "and should we escape our current predicament and complete our mission, I will gladly indulge you with recounting it. Perhaps I will even allow Red to do the telling. She loves to embellish details but her vivacious nature can make any story more intriguing."

Dorothy bites her lip and then nods. "I...I would like that. Thank you. And it would give me the opportunity to express my apologies to her. I feel as if I owe her at least that much for my part in what happened to her."

"She will disagree as the necessity of such a gesture, as do I," Regina says with a knowing smile. "Though I am sure you two will become fast friends."

Snow hums her agreement from behind Regina's left shoulder. "Regina is right," she adds. "Both in that it is not your fault and that Red will like you. She has a keen sense of people, so I know she'll see how good a person you are."

"You barely know me," Dorothy then says to Snow, face pinched with shame. "I'm not as good a person as you think I am."

Snow merely gazes at Dorothy in that sweet, serene way that used to make Regina want to strangle her. A good throttling is all she wants to give the woman these days. A vast improvement.

"We'll see about that," Snow then says, oblivious to Regina's thoughts.

"I guess we will," replies Dorothy with a weak smile, and then she turns back around and starts down the tunnel again.


	23. Race to the Finish

**Standard Disclaimer** : These lovely characters ain't mine, I just play with them gently. Please don't sue me. The mistakes are mine, though.

* * *

 **Chapter** **22** – Race to the Finish

Not another word is spoken as the group slowly trudges through the narrow, winding tunnel. The minutes pass by like so much molasses and with each step the tension between them coils into an ever-tightening knot. A gust of frigid air screams through the corridor from some unknown source, bringing with it a chill that gnaws into their skin like tendrils of dread are winding around their hearts. As they snake their way through the foreboding passage, it starts to seem less and less like an escape route and more a coffin of brick and mortar.

When the termination point finally becomes visible in the flickering, burnished light of the torch, all three women breathe a simultaneous sigh of relief. Just as with the entrance in the royal guest chambers, there is a sconce upon the wall that Dorothy rushes toward. With a single turn, the exit is unsealed, revealing the scullery, exactly as Dorothy had said.

Freedom is so close that Regina can almost taste it. But first they have to evade the Wheelers and any guards that have been alerted to their presence as they flee the city, a daunting task under ideal circumstances, which these most certainly are not.

By unspoken agreement, Dorothy stands in the entrance, watching over her shoulder as Snow concentrates her uncanny hearing to pick up on any movement from their pursuers.

"They're heading this way," she tells them after a moment, "but not as close as they were before. I'd say we have maybe a minute lead on them."

"Then we'd best make use of it," replies Dorothy, and without bothering to wait, she draws her sword from the scabbard on her hip and then pushes through the shoulder-width threshold into the scullery.

Regina and Snow fall into step behind their statuesque warrior of a guide. While Snow draws her bow and nocks an arrow, Regina allows her magic to flow through her veins and gather into her palms. She needs to be ready at a moment's notice to start flinging fireballs. Haste being the word of the day, they make quick work of the scullery and then scoot out of the castle via the door Dorothy has flung open.

As they step out into the moonlit night, Dorothy stops just outside the palace to flatten herself against the outer wall – a clever tactic to make her silhouette as small as possible. Regina and Snow join her as they each peer in every direction for any sign of patrolling guards. From their position they have a clear view of a hundred eighty degrees, and see no indications that they are being pursued from the outside.

Wondering what their next move is, Regina sends Dorothy a questioning glance.

"See that alleyway ahead of us just to the left?" the brunette whispers just loud enough to be heard.

Regina follows her line of sight, and then nods upon spotting said alleyway by the dim illumination provided by the street lamps. "I see it."

"So do I," Snow adds, both of them careful to keep their volume modulated.

"There is a siege tunnel that runs beneath the walls of the city," Dorothy tells them. "From that alleyway I can lead us directly to one of its access shafts."

Regina gestures wildly, an indication they had best move quickly. "Then what are we waiting for?"

Dorothy draws a deep breath as she nods curtly, just about to set off at a run when raucous laughter erupts from behind them. Regina shifts back toward the scullery door, where Snow is peaking her head around the corner. Less than five seconds later, Snow jerks back quickly and then turns to them wearing a panicky expression that portrays the gravity of their situation. The Wheelers have caught up.

"Time to go!" Dorothy hisses, having picked up on Snow's reaction. Without further commentary, she takes off at a sprint toward the alleyway.

Regina allows Snow to move past her and, once she is clear, summons a magical barrier that will temporarily prevent anyone still inside the castle from exiting. It fills the empty space left by the opened door, forming a solid wall of energy that is impermeable to all matter bigger than a dust mote. To optimize preservation of her magical supply, she installs a shield that will last only a minute or so. Not terribly long, but it will buy some time for them to cross the open approaches between the city proper and the palace that lies at its center. Once the shield is in place, she hurries along after her comrades, who are now well ahead of her.

Thankful that she had chosen to wear her leathers and boots rather than a dress and heels, Regina breaks into a sprint. Though her selection of clothing is undoubtedly advantageous, she is more grateful at the moment that she is married to a woman who is as fond of running on two legs as on four.

Every morning that there are no inescapable commitments or in which she is unable to persuade her wife to laze about for a few extra hours, she is dragged out of bed before the roosters are up. And not by choice. Oh, no. The obscenely early wake-up call is all Red's fault. Apparently the ass-crack of dawn is _just absolutely_ _the best_ time to go for a morning run upon the ramparts ringing the citadel. Grouchy as she is for the first half hour, by the time her heart rate is pumping in rhythm with her legs, she cannot help but agree with the sentiment.

The ritual began almost as soon as Red's living at the Dark Palace became a permanent arrangement. As might be imagined, Regina resisted quite vociferously at first. Having always prided herself on keeping a slim figure, she didn't see the point of such unnecessary exertion. Red did, though, and as usual she always got her way. Very quickly Regina learned there is vast a difference between staying thin and being fit. Those first few weeks were nothing short of torture. But Red, ever tenacious, just kept on encouraging her to push her limits until she finally adapted to the punishing regimen. Now, in spite of her knocking on the door of age forty-five, she is in the best shape of her life. Right now, it shows.

As a result, it takes her far less time to cross the distance between the alleyway and the palace than it does Snow, who has evidently let lapse the peak physical fitness she developed during a life on the run. Upon catching up, she starts to needle Snow for her lack of aerobic upkeep, but the moment her mouth opens, she feels her spell falter. A frisson of fear curls down her chest. The shield has broken much earlier than expected, and as if to punctuate the dread, the snap of the abrupt failure is accompanied by a frenzied laughter that is far more terrifying than any Regina has heard yet. She peers back at the palace just as the Wheelers finally emerge.

At first blush, her only thought is one of bewilderment. The Wheelers are gangly and menacing looking creatures dressed in all black whose heads are covered by gilded helms with grotesque masks upon the top. The masks are only visible when they are in transit as for some odd reason they often duck their heads as they move. Their legs and arms are the same length, lending them a strange hybrid appearance between a humanoid and something altogether unnatural. At the end of their limbs where hands and feet would be on a person are discs comprised of material that resembles malachite upon which they roll rather than walk or run. To surmise their appearance as odd would be equivalent to saying a mountain is heavy.

"They they are! Tender little morsels!" the lead one screams, voice harsh and shrill. It stabs Regina in the gut like a double-edged dagger, sharp and efficient and quick. "Get 'em! Get 'em all!"

"Run!" Regina shouts, and her companions waste no time in obeying her command.

She follows closely behind as Dorothy blazes a path through a seemingly endless series of darkened alleys. As they maneuver deeper into the labyrinth of civilization, the flickering light of the street lamps fades, enshrouding them in shadows. The moon overhead is partially blocked by cloud cover and thus barely emits enough light for them to see by, which makes shifting and dodging the detritus of bustling city life a precarious endeavor. Waist high piles of garbage and refuse have been spilled or tossed out in virtually every corner of the alleyway that runs behind homes and businesses. It is delicate going considering the compressed horizontal space they are navigating.

It seems to Regina that they spend at least five minutes straight scurrying like rats fleeing a ravenous cat. All the while Dorothy maneuvers them through adjoining alleys that criss-cross the city in an attempt to put some separation on the Wheelers. In the close quarters with their ninety degree intersections, Regina realizes that the creatures will have far more trouble navigating them as quickly as those who have feet. The decision to take them this route then becomes apparent as one of notable tactical brilliance. More and more, she finds herself respecting Dorothy for her ability to keep a clear head under duress. Whatever failures she had exhibited at the gates of the Sacred Grove, she is more than making up for them now.

Eventually they reach an alley that terminates against the giant siege wall that rings the Emerald City. With nowhere else to go, they all stop to catch their breath. In the near distance, Regina can hear the cacophony of noise that seems to always characterize a Wheeler in motion. Along with their obnoxious cackling, they intermittently vocalize an astonishing variety of colorful threats, some describing in great detail what horrors their malevolent benefactor will visit upon them when she returns.

Panting slightly, Regina glares at Dorothy, all her earlier good will having evaporated. "Well? Now what are we supposed to do? You've led us into a dead end."

"Ah," grins Dorothy, short of breath as well, "but I haven't. Just sit back and watch." She then reaches into a pouch at her side and pulls out a glowing green sigil. Of ovular shape, the item is decorated in the center by a stylized Z. When Dorothy presses it against the wall, something truly marvelous happens.

Regina stares in awe as a small rectangular portion of the lower wall begins to shimmer in undulating waves. As if a curtain of vibrant green, it is parted to reveal a recessed nook with a steel plate in the ground emblazoned with the same crest as the sigil. Dorothy waves them over to it after prying the heavy plate up by its handle.

"The tunnel is only known to those who are friends of the True Queen of Oz, Ozma," she tells them, holding up the artifact she had used to open it up. "This sigil is both a symbol and a magical key to open doors that Ozma wishes to remain unknown. The shaft descends twenty feet below the wall and empties into a series of networking tunnels that run beneath the city. If we follow the right one, we will emerge in the forest nearby, and luckily I know them like the back of my hand. We must hurry, though, before the Wheelers scout our location."

Dorothy then begins to lower herself down the ladder that is built into the stone walls of the shaft. After giving Snow a leery glance, Regina takes a deep breath and follows the brunette warrior. She hears Snow join them on the ladder moments later, and they begin to descend the shaft as hastily as they can without endangering life or limb.

Halfway down, Regina gasps when the magic holding the access door to the shaft open fails, plunging them into inky black once again. But before she can summon her wisp of light, the darkness is illuminated by green crystals that line the walls all the way down the length of the vertical access shaft. It is a clever bit of sorcery, and yet another instance of inspiration for her to perhaps experiment with back home. She has a sudden desire to meet this Ozma. Anyone capable of such wondrous works is someone she would love to converse with, if only to discuss the finer applications of the magical arts of which both seem so fond.

They climb down the rest of the way with no troubles thanks to the pale green luminescence emitted by the crystals. Upon reaching the bottom, Regina notes that the tunnels beneath the city are lit via a similar method, although the crystals are much larger and produce much more light due to the relative size differential between the spaces. Whereas the shaft was narrow, needing only provide room for one person a time to climb down, the siege tunnels are huge in comparison. They are easily large enough for grown men to travel down them twenty abreast and thus must be well-lit to avoid transportation mishaps.

For a long moment, Regina simply takes in the sight of the highly polished walls and ceilings. All of them are decorated with frescoes of what she assumes are myths and legends popular in Oz or perhaps histories of famous warriors and monarchs. She is amazed by the intricacy of the artwork. The floors of the tunnels themselves seem to be crafted of emerald glass, and they reflect her image back at her with perfectly detailed clarity. In all, the tunnels are an awesome feat of engineering and craftsmanship unsurpassed by anything she has seen or heard of back home.

"The tunnels are impressive, aren't they?" Dorothy's voice rings out, echoing off the walls of the tunnels as it cuts through Regina's musing.

She turns to see Snow standing shoulder to shoulder with their guide, both facing toward the east – if she has correctly oriented herself. "They are, indeed," says Regina as she sidles up to the two. "When were they constructed?"

"Over two centuries ago," Dorothy says, then smiles. "It's an interesting tale, actually."

"Oh?" Brow arched in intrigue, she awaits elaboration that does not come. Huffing irritably, she gestures encouragingly toward Dorothy. "Well go on, dear. It's impolite to leave one's audience in suspense."

Dorothy looks surprised. "I just figured you'd prefer getting out of here quickly to a very long story."

"You figured correctly," Regina says, lips quirked wryly. "However, stories can be summarized and if you are capable of walking and talking at the same time, surely I am able to do so and listen."

"Oh, so we're a smart ass are we?" Regina just grins at Dorothy's response, which prompts a chuckle before she shrugs indifferently. "Alright. Sure." She then beckons with a tilt of her head and she starts out eastward. "C'mon. It's this way." Once Regina and Snow have fallen in behind her, she picks up the story. "So, as I said, the tunnels were built a long time ago. Back then, Oz became embroiled in a bloody faction war between the humans that occupied what would become the Emerald City and the Dark Elves that were driven from those lands long before King Pastoria took the throne. Before hostilities broke out, the king had tried and failed to find a diplomatic solution to the looming crisis. Desperate to avoid bloodshed, he personally arranged one last meeting with the Dark Elven King, only to be ambushed en route. Although his entire escort was slain, their noble sacrifices enabled him to escape. But the king was not unscathed. Gravely wounded in his flight, he limped and then crawled for miles, and would have surely died had he not been rescued after he passed out upon the very ground Ozma would one day construct her grove.

"When the king awakened, he found himself in a cottage some miles to the west, nestled next to an idyllic stream. To his astonishment, everything within a mile of the cabin flourished. It was unnatural. Winter had descended upon Oz, and while the rest of the country was in the midst of a deep freeze, around this one patch of land green ruled still. Flowers were in full bloom and the forest housed such an abundance of fauna that he could merely glance out the window and see more wildlife than he could encounter over thirty square miles elsewhere in pristine conditions.

"He was contemplating how to get back to the capitol when the owner of the cottage returned. She was the most beautiful creature he had ever laid eyes upon. At first he thought her to be one of the fabled Light Elves that long ago departed for the West as her skin was fair as snow, her frame tall and lithe, and her ears tapered to a fine point. But other unmistakably human features cast doubt upon his assumption. Of course, there was not much time to further investigate his savior when she was busy fussing over him having stumbled out of bed too soon.

"For weeks, he recuperated under her gentle, healing hand. In a development not all that surprising, the two fell in love. It was only when he was forced to leave that she revealed her true identity. She was Lurline, Goddess of the Sky, and she had been watching over him since an incident in his youth when he came to the rescue of another of her avatars. Pastoria could not understand what she saw in him, even knowing he had once saved her life and out of the goodness of his heart asked for nothing in return. Lurline, meanwhile, was upset with herself. She had only intended to repay the debt she owed the handsome, compassionate human and never imagined that prolonged exposure to a mortal while clothed in flesh would make her so susceptible to their messy emotions. Their parting was bitter. Both had duties to attend to and neither were willing to forsake them for the island of happiness they had discovered in that cottage.

"Months passed. Pastoria returned home, having all but given up hope of ever seeing Lurline again. His situation was tenuous, especially with the Dark Elves preparing to besiege the city. Still, he resisted the calls of the nobility to flee at once, praying for a miracle to occur and for deliverance to come. With the Dark Elves readying to deploy their giant siege machines, all seemed lost. There was no time to evacuate the city and only skeleton forces remained, meaning they lacked the strength with which to sortie and cut out a path for innocents to escape the coming destruction. It looked as if everyone within the gates would soon be dead. But then word arrived that a Lady Ellinur had arrived with a plan to rescue the beleaguered citizens of the capitol. Having never heard of this Lady, Pastoria, with no other options beyond that all or nothing gamble, nevertheless accepted her overture.

"The door to the throne room opened. A vision in white appeared. And behold! It was Lurline, who had in secret been conspiring with the Dark Elves' chief rivals, the Light Elves, upon whom she partially based her most favored avatar. In a feat of magic unequaled in all of history, Lurline carved out the first of these great siege tunnels underneath the city in a single night. It is the largest and longest and terminates half a mile behind where the Dark Elven army encamped. But the form Lurline inhabited was not omnipotent, and she expended so much energy that she nearly died. Pastoria carried her all the way through the tunnel she had constructed, through the forests, and another five miles to safety.

"With the help of the Light Elves, he was able to retake his kingdom and within a year drove the Dark Elves forever from Oz. To celebrate this great victory, the Light Elves offered to aid in the construction of a new capitol city, one where all citizens of Oz, regardless of race, would be welcome. Pastoria could not refuse this generous offer, nor would he since he owed them a debt that could never be repaid. In all of this, Lurline remained at his side and he at hers. So great was their love that Lurline bound herself to her avatar for the rest of Pastoria's life, which she extended beyond the pale of an average human lifespan. They married not long after the war was over. Many years later, Ozma was born.

"Because Lurline vowed to never again leave the people she had claimed as her own so defenseless, and because she had a daughter to think about, she set about reinforcing the existing siege tunnel and expanding it into the network that exists today. All that you see around you now is the work of her hands."

"Wow," says Snow, a bit breathless at the epic tale. "That's incredible. And romantic. One person did all this for love."

"A goddess did all of this," Regina corrects, though she is also impressed and a bit touched. "Bound in mortal form but a goddess just the same. Whatever happened to her, by the way? Ozma is queen now. I am assuming her father is dead. What did Lurline do when he passed?"

Dorothy's expression falls. "She abandoned her avatar forevermore. Now, she can only be seen and felt in nature and in the innate magic that permeates every creature of Oz. And in Ozma, who is said to favor her mother more so than her father. I never had the pleasure of meeting Lurline but I imagine the saying is true. I _have_ met Ozma and she is so much more than human. She has a light within her that I cannot explain."

At the description of Ozma possessing an internal light, thoughts of Lucas suddenly spring to Regina's mind. She hopes that he is well. The last thing she wants is to abandon him here in Oz. Sadly, Jefferson's hat was not designed to accommodate a horse. Only humans are permitted to pass through that particular portal, and the thought of having to part forever from the gorgeous steed is a painful one. But it is what she must do if she wants to complete the mission. No horse, however beautiful or spirited, is worth endangering Red.

"I would very much like to meet her then," Regina says, also pondering whether or not Ozma might be of aid in her quest.

To which Dorothy replies, "I'm sure that can be arranged."

Not much else is said for a while as they move down the tunnel, Snow on one side of Dorothy with Regina on the other. They walk in dead silence for a few minutes before Regina is struck by the haste with which they had fled from pursuers with no hands. And if they have no hands, how could they hold a weapon? Or for that matter bind captives with restraints?

"Pardon me if my question is rude," she begins, not really meaning the preemptive apology. She doesn't care if her question seems rude, to be honest, but she likes Dorothy and wants to avoid offending her if possible. "I am very curious as to why we fled from assailants that are unable to wield swords or apply restraints. They have no hands."

Snow glances curiously over at Dorothy. "It's a fair question. I was wondering the same thing."

"For one," Dorothy replies, seemingly unperturbed by the inquisition, "they cannot be outrun. There is no creature bound to the earth in Oz, either of man or beast, that is faster than the Wheelers. But what's more, the witch has imbued their masks with her power so that one touch from them imprisons people in crystal, just as I was. It was their leader who ensnared me at the gates of the Sacred Grove. He is one of the Witch's most loyal and trusted lieutenants."

"Well, that is perfectly nightmarish," Snow comments, shuddering. "They are hideous to begin with, but that kind of power...and to serve Zelena willingly…?"

"Not all of them are so hideous," Dorothy then says. "And not all choose to serve her. Only one particular tribal leader fell in with the Wicked Witch when she usurped the Council of Directions. She warped him with her dark magic and imbued with him such power that he begged her to bestow the same gift upon his tribe. But the gift came at a terrible cost, for it compels them irresistibly to bow to her will."

"Yet another thing for which my sister must be made to pay," Regina says, hating to hear of any creature being enslaved.

"A sentiment I wholeheartedly agree with," added Dorothy. "As for the rest of their kind, while mischievous and rowdy, they are mostly harmless. They inhabit a land called Ev, dress very colorfully, and love to tell jokes. I encountered them once in my youth."

"They sound like interesting creatures," Snow comments.

"They are, indeed," smiles Dorothy as she remembers something that she chooses not to reveal. "Thankfully their ancestral homeland lies across the Deadly Desert, and even the Wicked Witch fears to traverse that desolate place. They only reason she got her hands on what few Wheelers she did was because of her failed attempt to seize the Throne of Ev in order to install a puppet government."

"Zelena was defeated by this kingdom of Ev?" Regina asks, keen for an answer.

"Oh, yes," nods Dorothy. "But not for lack of trying. She staged two separate invasions, each more disastrous than the previous. The Witch is powerful, but her resources are limited outside of the Land of Oz. Ev is very far away, you see, and the Deadly Desert forbidding and inhospitable. She lost several legions crossing it. Even more perished in her excursions that actually made it into Ev."

Regina hums thoughtfully. "That is interesting to know." So Zelena's magic is not so all-powerful as she likes to boast. Her sister's levels of hubris are even more foolish than she previously surmised.

Traversing the rest the siege tunnel is accomplished with a smattering of inane chatter between Dorothy and Snow that Regina drowns out to stew on her thoughts. But eventually the group nears the exit. It is a grand, upward sloping ramp of perhaps twenty degrees in rise, at the end of which lies another vertical access shaft. The walk up the ramp is difficult due to the angle, but it is passable – although Snow is breathing a bit heavily by the time they reach the shaft. So that they are not left waiting at the top for their least adroit member, Regina and Dorothy allow Snow to climb up first.

"Be careful on exiting," Dorothy tells her after she's about five rungs up on the ladder. "There are patrols known to frequent the woods near this exit. It is concealed by magic from view, but the moment we open the hatch, that magic will temporarily dissipate. It is night, which gives us some cover, so try and open the hatch slowly to limit the noise."

"I'll try," says Snow, and then begins climbing up in earnest.

For all of Snow's inadequacies, Regina does not doubt her ability for stealth. Her lungs may need some work toughening up but the woman is as light of foot as she ever was. There were moments during their journey to the little village they bought Lucas in that she had thought Snow to be lost only to check back over her shoulder and find her still following along silent as a mouse. Her ability to limit her noise on the brick surface of the road while wearing boots was impressive, and Regina was forced to admit to herself that she was grudgingly respectful of Snow's many other survival skills. And while Red was responsible for teaching Snow most of them, that kind of ability is nearly impossible to teach to someone not naturally fleet of foot. No wonder she made it so long in the wilderness as she fled from countless hunting parties. One cannot kill what one cannot hear or see or track, and Snow was and continues to be accomplished at being untraceable when she wants to be.

When Snow is halfway up the ladder, Regina indicates toward Dorothy with her hand. "Age after innocence, my dear."

Dorothy cuts a sideways grin at her. "I'm far from innocent and you're far from old. But I'll go first if you insist."

Regina chuckles amiably. "Thank you for the compliment. And yes, I do insist. I can defend myself with minimal use of my hands, so it makes sense for me to be the rear guard."

Seeing the logic in her statement, Dorothy nods and then begins to climb as well. Regina waits five seconds before she begins her own ascent up the glowing green shaft. Upon clambering out of the exit hatch, she immediately catches sight of Snow and Dorothy standing stock still, weapons in hand and in a combat pose. After glancing about, she stiffens defensively. They are surrounded by a squad of soldiers surrounding them whose weapons are pointed threateningly in their direction. Two of the men are armed with swords and shields, one with a great ax, one a halberd, while the other is an archer like Snow whose arrow is pointed at his counterpart.

"In the name of her Royal Majesty, the great Queen Zelena, lay down your arms and surrender," the leader, a burly man of about forty years with a trimmed and well-kept beard and piercing eyes, commands.

Regina snarls at him and summons a fireball into her hand. "Not a chance."

At the sight of her magic, the archer's eyes widen, and he spins in place, loosing an arrow in her direction. She is so focused on their leader that she doesn't see the projectile incoming until it is too late to avoid. Amazingly, before it pierces her through the heart, she is shoved aside. A grunt of pain escapes her savior's lips as both careen to the ground.

She lands heavily, but spins onto her side and is quickly up again. Reacting on instinct, she regathers her magic into another fireball meant for area of effect and casts it at the group of men who are now advancing upon the group. It explodes against their leader's shield, throwing the lot of them back and dousing them in a rain of fire. As they reel from the counterattack, Snow sends an arrow downrange with deadly accuracy. It lodges into the enemy archer's eye socket, killing him instantly.

The death of their comrade enrages the men, who spring forward in a mindless charge. In their recklessness, they lower their shields, and this time when Regina tosses a second fireball at them, it does not miss. It explodes in the face of the lead soldier, and again the whole line staggers. She hears the wretched screams of the man as his flesh melts from his face. Now on fire, he swerves into his comrades, spreading the flames to their undercoats. Chaos descends as they attempt to put out the inferno. Their efforts are fruitless, Regina knows, for it is no ordinary fire that consumes them.

As the screams and groans of dying men fill the night air, she assesses her compatriots. Snow is unhurt but gaping in horror at the scene of carnage before her. Regina pays her no heed; she is long used to the noise of people being burnt alive and accustomed to the accompanying stench of seared and charred flesh. Dorothy, on the other hand, is sitting up from where she'd bowled Regina over, gingerly assessing her left shoulder which has been pierced by an arrow from the back.

Regina kneels down beside her, cognizant that they have no time to treat the injury. More soldiers are likely congregating to investigate the commotion they have no doubt heard in the forest. Upon initial inspection, she can see that Dorothy's shoulder blade absorbed the blow and that the arrowhead is lodged firmly within the bone. It is an excruciating wound for sure, but the brave young woman makes little fuss as Regina breaks the shaft of the arrow and cauterizes the traumatized, weeping flesh with magic.

"I'll have to fix this up properly later," she says as she helps an increasingly clammy Dorothy to her feet. The brunette winces with the movement but does not cry out. Her toughness is commendable. "We need to leave this place at once. More soldiers will be coming."

"How are we supposed to outrun them?" Snow asks. "We have no means of transportation."

At that, Regina grins. "But we do," she says in a bragging tone. "We have me. All I need to get us somewhere safe is for Dorothy here to imagine one in her mind." She turns to Dorothy with an inquiring look. "Can you do that for me, dear?"

Dorothy's brows scrunch together. "Just think of someplace safe?"

"That's it," Regina smiles encouragingly. "I will use magic to peer into your memories and then transport us to the location you conjure up."

"Whatever you're going to do," Snow then interject, "do it quickly. I already hear soldiers on horseback headed this way."

"Close your eyes, Dorothy," Regina instructs, hands gripping the woman's face at her temples, holding her head steady to aid in her concentration. "Think of a place where the Witch or her men will not look for us. Somewhere preferably nearby the Grove. Can you see it?" Dorothy nods almost instantly. "Very good, dear," Regina says with effusive praise for Dorothy's quick response. "Now empty your mind of all else but that place. Let the memory of it flood your senses."

As Dorothy squints her lids in concentration, Regina closes her eyes and summons her magic. She ignores the encroaching sounds of hooves beating against dry loam, growing ever-nearer as she peers into Dorothy's mind. The picture she is presented with is that of a quaint wood cabin somewhere in the lowlands at the base of a great mountain chain. A fresh coat of snow is on the ground and smoke rises from the chimney in thick, dark gray plumes. The image is so clear that she is able to quickly latch on to it.

"Hold on to me, Snow," she cries out as she begins to recite the spell in her mind. "Hold on and don't let go!"

Still clinging to Dorothy's face, Regina feels Snow's arms wrap around her waist, and the moment they are closed tight, she releases her power. A flash of light bursts behind her eyelids as she feels her powers flare to life. A moment later, it is over. Her energy levels, while waning, are not dangerously low. She knows without needing to open her eyes that the transportation spell worked. No longer is she surrounded by the smells of a forest clashing with the myriad foul odors inherent to a densely populated city, but the crisp, cool air that can only be found far away from the hallmarks of human civilization.

When she opens her eyes, she is greeted by the sight of the cabin in Dorothy's memories. A relieved smile cracks through the stress of their escape. Unfortunately, it lasts for less than half a second before Dorothy's now-opened eyes roll up into her skull and she slumps boneless into Regina's arms.

A moment later, the door of the cabin opens and a small furry form darts out, speeding toward them in a whir of stumpy legs and frizzy hair. It is a dog of some exotic breed that barks and whines incessantly as it paws at Dorothy's legs. Regina tries to shoo it off unsuccessfully several times before a voice calls out, curbing her attempts to drive the mangy animal away.

"Toto! Where the blazes do you think you are going? Come back this instant you naughty little tramp!" the voice cries, obviously belonging to a female. It is melodic and airy and gorgeous, and rings in Regina's ears like the stirring strings of a heavenly symphony.

And then a distressed cry from the direction of the cabin follows, wrenching her attention away from the yappy dog and her stricken companion. She looks up to see a woman standing at the doorstep, hand clutching fretfully at her chest. The pale skinned vision of splendorous beauty radiates a golden ethereal glow that makes her appear inhuman. Her hair is the color of the morning sun and tumbles over her shoulders in luscious curls that nearly reach her waist. A wreathed headband of gold, dusted with glinting emerald gems sits atop her head, holding her bangs away from her face, and she is dressed in a flowing powder blue gown that billows about slender ankles.

Regina is rendered dumb, in awe of the unsurpassed beauty before her. She is embarrassingly unable to reply when the woman cries out, "What has happened to my beloved?" and then springs forward in their direction.


	24. Seeds of a Three

**A/N:** Sadly this is the last we'll hear from Red until her ordeal is over, however that may occur. Please forgive me!

 **Standard Disclaimer** : These lovely characters ain't mine, I just play with them gently. Please don't sue me. The mistakes are mine, though.

* * *

 **Chapter** **23** – Seeds of a Three

Red has never had a problem making friends. Regina is right about that. Well, Regina is right about a lot of things, just that one thing in particular is currently relevant considering how easily she's fallen into an amiable rapport with Aurora. Since the auburn-crowned princess mercifully broke up the maddening monotony of her existence, they have been chatting up a storm about everything under the sun. It's only been a few hours, but already she feels like she's made a friend for life.

They've just been discussing their mutual loathing of the insular nature of nobility when Aurora suddenly clears her throat and says, "So, earlier you mentioned that your True Love is a woman..."

Red's brows shoot northward at the abrupt change of course. For a moment, she fears this is the moment she'll lose what progress they have made. It wouldn't be the first time it has happened, either. More than a few interesting folks she's met have spurned her friendship upon learning she is wed to a woman. Like death and taxes, bigotry is a staple wherever one ventures in this old world.

"She is," Red answers, tone a little clipped. "Does that bother you?"

Aurora shakes her head vehemently. "Not at all. It's just that for one exhilarating moment, I was curious as to whether your beloved might be a slight woman of exotic origins named Mulan. Before you mentioned it being Queen Regina, that is."

The casual name drop visibly stuns Red. The last thing she'd expected to discover about Aurora was that she is an acquaintance of Mulan's.

"How do you know Mulan?" she asks, not careful to hide her intrigue. Mulan has always been so secretive about her past that Red can't pass up the opportunity to glean some juicy morsels of information on her frustratingly stoic friend. 

Aurora's expression brightens considerably. "Oh! Well, she and my husband were traveling companions while I was under Maleficent's curse. She helped him find a cure for an ailment that prevented him from waking me. After I was rescued, Mulan and I also became very close."

It suddenly dawns on Red who this woman is. Her eyes narrow dangerously. "You're her! Aren't you?"

Aurora leans back in confusion. "I beg your pardon?"

"You and your husband are the assholes that broke her heart!" Though Red's accusation is uncharacteristically vulgar, it is, in her opinion, warranted.

Not too long after they became friends, Red was able to guilt Mulan into loosening up about her past. She'd felt like a jerk using such an underhanded tactic as crying for manipulative effect, but the woman's refusal to let anyone into her heart, even under the auspices of purely platonic friendship, was so infuriating that Red had been at a loss of how else to prove herself trustworthy. So she'd decided to make herself vulnerable first by reliving Peter's death. She'd just got the waterworks good and started when Mulan halted her.

" _If we're going to do this...emotional bonding,_ " the tiny warrior had said as Red wiped her tears dry, " _I'm going to need alcohol. A lot of alcohol. And someplace private._ "

" _Done and done!_ " Red had said, and then clapped her friend on the back. She's whistled a tune of victory all the way down Regina's private wine cellar.

That night, with both of them sloshed silly, Mulan told her in the vaguest terms about how she'd gone on a grand adventure with a young man seeking to save his True Love. Of course, she'd spared names and locations for the sake of their privacy, but enough detail came out for Red to presently be able to put two and two together.

Aurora does not only look slightly offended by Red's harshness but openly wears her hurt. "What? When did we break her heart? I swear to you that Philip and I parted from her on good terms."

Red scoffs at the non-explanation. While she believes Aurora is telling the truth, it is from a slanted perspective. People are often willingly blind to how others around them are hurting – especially when they are in a bubble of happiness. In her general estimation, people only deign to be considerate to the needs of others, even loved ones, when it is convenient. Most likely, Aurora and Philip were too wrapped up in one another and their epic romance to notice that their closest friend was suffering.

"She only let you believe that so you could both remain ignorant of how she was hurting," she says, trying not to sound as critical as she'd been before. "I'm not saying this to be mean, either. Just being honest. You both hurt her worse than you'll ever know."

Damn it all if Aurora doesn't tear up at the thought she'd done actual harm to Mulan. Red almost feels bad for slapping her so hard with stark, cold reality. Almost.

"I don't understand," Aurora says, visibly crestfallen. Her shoulders draw in and her lips tremble almost imperceptibly. "What did we do? I thought were good to her. That we were all the best of friends..."

Red sighs when Aurora trails off, sniffling daintily. Why is it always her that gets put in the middle of other people's shit? It happened with Regina and Snow. Then again with Victor and Regina. Then again with Regina and Cora. And now she's stuck in the middle of a love triangle that, while of the equilateral variety instead of isosceles, is no less complicated and messy.

"That's the problem," she says, wearily scrubbing a hand over her face. "You were maybe a little too good of a friend."

Brows scrunched up, Aurora replies, "I don't follow. What are you suggesting? I'd appreciate a forthright answer as well."

"I can't." Red shakes her head and bites her lip against the desire to interfere. "I promised Mulan I wouldn't say anything to anyone."

"I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but you've already partially broken that promise by telling me that I've done her wrong somehow yet at the same time was _too good_ to her. Which makes no sense. You're deliberately stimulating my curiosity. I think you want to tell me because you believe it's the right thing to do. So please just follow that instinct. Please! I need to know what we did so we can make it right."

 _Oh, what the hell!_ Red thinks, sort of hating Aurora for how accurately she'd read the situation. It's uncanny how much that felt like she was under Regina's eerily accurate magnifying glass.

"Some things can't be fixed," she says, resigned now to fessing up. She'll be breaking the confidence of one of her closest friends, someone who has never betrayed her in such a way. But at the same time Aurora was correct that she believes it's the right thing to do. As mulish as Mulan is, the woman will never fight for her own happiness, which leaves her friends to do so on her behalf. Red steels herself before dropping the proverbial hammer. "Things like unrequited love."

Brows furrowing, Aurora's head cocks to the side like a confused puppy. "Her affection was not unrequited. Philip and I both love her."

 _Of course she would choose that moment to stop being perceptive and make me spell it out,_ Red thinks, then clarifies audibly, "Not like she loves the two of you. It's a...different kind of love."

"What do you mean by that – oh. Oh!" Aurora gasps, eyes going wide and a bit wild as she covers her mouth with her hand. A moment later, after recovering enough to formulate words, she removes her hand to speak. "Do you mean to say that Mulan was in love with us? Both of us?"

Red nods in confirmation, biting her lip at the panoply of emotions that play in turn all over Aurora's features from shock to disbelief to fear to what looks like it just might be a spark of hope. _Is it possible that Mulan's feelings weren't as one-sided as she'd believed?_

Her own hope swelling, _s_ he replies, "Was. Is. Always will be, I think. She hasn't gone into great detail, but from what I gathered, she fell for Philip first and only realized her feelings had extended to you not long before she left."

Aurora actually looks devastated now, as if the floor has dropped out from beneath her feet and she's been left dangling by a frightfully thin thread. Red can tell her acute reaction isn't because she's disgusted by this revelation. It's evident by the way she trembles and how her eyes are tearing up again that she's realizing how hard it must have been for Mulan to be in love with them both while unable to say anything because of her unflinching sense of duty. Meanwhile, she had to watch them parade their love in front of her, believing she'd never be included. To an ultra rational individual such as Mulan, them being together as she wished was an impossibility when polyamory is more taboo than homosexuality by an order of magnitude.

Thus, Mulan essentially condemned herself to a torturous existence, unable for the longest time to tolerate being apart from those she loved but powerless to stop the pain of being unable to love them as she truly desired. Poor thing. It must have been horrible.

"B-but...why didn't she say anything?" Aurora asks, trying valiantly not to dissolve into a fit of tears as she appears to come to the very same realization. 

Not for the first time, Red wishes desperately that she could hug the woman. Hell, right now she'd settle for being able to offer platitudes that would make Aurora feel better about what's happened to someone she clearly still feels deeply for. But she can't. What's more, she refuses to. She cannot in good conscience allow a friend to remain ignorant to an ugly reality of human nature to which she's been exposed far too often since her relationship with Regina became public knowledge.

"People who aren't normal all hide their true selves out of fear," she says. "I kept my relationship with Regina a secret from Snow for a long time for that very reason. I wasn't just afraid she'd shun me because of what Regina did to her. I thought she'd judge me because I'm not just attracted to men like she always thought. Regina has told me she kept her own affairs with women a closely guarded secret because she was ashamed and afraid of how her mother would respond if she ever found out. Her mother whom she had banished to another world, by the way. That's how powerful the urge is to keep those parts of us other people will hate hidden. She was taught that being attracted to someone of the same sex is a perversion of the natural order of things, and that got so ingrained in her that even with her mother completely out of the picture she was compelled to hide that part of herself from public consumption. We both fessed up to the people that we care about most on the same day, and hell if it wasn't one of the scariest days of our lives. Thankfully, Regina's dad was amazing about it and Snow was too. Well, about the liking girls part. Not so much about that girl being Regina."

Aurora listens to the speech intently and without condemnation. Red is thankful for that, and beyond relieved by her new friend's admittedly unexpected response.

"I understand and am sympathetic with that reasoning," Aurora says, probably a lot more calmly than Red would have been in her position. "My father actively persecutes those who do not adhere to the criteria dictated by ancient tradition. Rest assured, I do not share his outdated opinions, nor does Philip. We've both sworn to outlaw such bigotry when, and if, we come to power. To us, love is love no matter who shares it. I would have thought Mulan would have known that. It saddens me she trusted us so little."

"Well, that's easy for you to say," Red retorts, eyes flashing with offense. "You have your happy ending with your dashing prince. No one sneers down their nose at you or calls you nasty names as you pass by when you hold hands with him in public. You don't get what it's like. Our kingdom is pretty forward thinking on this issue, but even there, Regina and I have encountered a lot of resistance. Still do every now and then."

Aurora has the grace to accept the chastisement with an apologetic wince that precedes an actual apology so earnest that Red can't help but accept it instantly. "You're right. You're right. I'm sorry. I don't mean to sound entitled or condescending. I just...well, I have to confess that I'm more upset at myself than Mulan. Philip tried to convince me that our advances would be reciprocated, but I didn't believe him. You were right about the part fear plays in matters of the heart that are...peculiar."

Red forgets all about the apology and how nice it was for her little lecture to be validated when she latches on to one incredibly important phrase. A phrase that confirms her suspicions about Philip and Aurora's feelings where Mulan is concerned.

"Wait a second. Are you saying what I think you're saying?"

"If you think I'm saying that Mulan wasn't alone feeling as she did, then yes, you are," Aurora says. "Right before she fled, Philip and I were discussing inviting her into our marriage. We would have had to keep the arrangement quiet until we took the throne, of course, but we wanted her to be a part of our lives in every way possible, including raising our baby as a family. We only didn't because of my cowardice."

Stunned, all the air rushes out of Red's lungs. "Wow. That...just wow. And not the part about you being scared. You really feel the same for her as she does for you? Philip, too?"

Aurora nods firmly. "We do. I wouldn't lie about such a sensitive matter."

"No, no. Of course not. I just wish you would have told her sooner. The rejection really messed her up." Aurora's wince has Red backtracking quickly, "Sorry, perceived rejection. I don't think she's so much as looked at someone with romantic interest since I've known her, and believe me, it's not for lack of trying on my part. I've attempted to play Cupid more times than I can count on two hands only for her to aggressively spurn any advances."

Hearing of Mulan's plight has Aurora rising to her feet and leaning as far toward Red as she can without contacting the flames barring them from physical contact. Worrying her hands together, she cries out, "My poor Mulan! I must see her at once. We've been searching for her these past years to no avail, hoping for a chance to tell her how we feel. I beg you, please tell me where she is!"

It is request Red cannot deny. Of everyone in the Kingdom, Mulan most deserves a slice of happiness. Now standing as well, Red gladly answers, "She's back home in Misthaven. Aside from being a close personal friend of both Regina and I, she serves as the Commanding General of the army. When I get back home, I'll let her know I saw you. And, if you want, I can advocate on your behalf for that second chance."

Aurora is brimming with so much hope that she appears fit to burst. "Would you truly be so kind?"

Red cannot contain her delighted grin. She feels so overjoyed and so incredibly privileged to have been the one to make this potential happy ending happen. And if she has any say in the matter, _it will_ come to fruition.

"It would be my honor, Princess Aurora," she says, then allows a thread of gravity into her tone. "But you have to promise not to hurt her. I love that woman, and I'm sick and tired of watching her pine after what she thinks she can't have. She's been through enough. So, with all due respect, if you break her heart a second time you will have to deal with me in all my fearsome furry majesty. And that's not to mention Regina, who will be right there in line to dish out some pain of her own."

Aurora, taking the threat in stride, raises her hand in a manner indicative of one swearing an oath. "I swear on my mother's memory, I would sooner carve out my own heart than hurt her again. I know Philip feels the same."

"In that case," Red says, relaxing into a friendly stance, "I'd be happy to pass along any message you have for her."

Averting her eyes, Aurora takes a moment to gather her thoughts. She paces back and forth, much like Red had done during the interminable hours before her royal friend so auspiciously arrived. Once she's made up her mind what to say, she returns her gaze to Red. Blue eyes determined, she says, "Give her a kiss from both Philip and I, then tell her this: Forgive us for our ignorance. We failed her horribly, I know, especially me, but I never imagined she could return our feelings. Now that my misconceptions have been corrected, I would be eternally grateful if she would give us another chance.

"Please ask her to come home, Red. Or if she's unwilling and wishes to remain in your kingdom, tell her that Philip and I will gladly come to her. We want to be a family, wherever we have to go to make that happen. Now that I know where she is, I won't be able to bear the separation any longer. Please, Red, please tell her that we lo..." But before Aurora can finish the last sentence, she blinks out of sight. Simply vanishes without trace as if she'd never been there at all.

"Aurora?" Red calls out, panic clawing at her chest. When no answer is given, she cradles her hands against her breast and sits dumbly, staring forlornly at where Aurora used to be. Somewhere in the back of her mind she is still processing her new friend's heartfelt pleas for Mulan, but foremost in her thoughts is that she is once again alone. The warmth of Aurora's presence, her soft smile, easygoing charm and subtle sense of humor, her almost painful earnestness is gone, having been taken away by the cruelty of this curse.

Dimly, Red realizes the cause of the phenomena, that Aurora has simply woke up in the real world. Which is a good thing, and she's glad the tenderhearted princess is no longer stuck with her in this barren wasteland of flames and despair. But in her absence, the biting cold of loneliness seeps back in through the thin barrier of Red's morning dress. Her skin pebbles in protest. Tears prick at her eyelids that she refuses to let fall.

Aurora had hinted early in their conversation that this place is merely one of many such prisons, leaving Red to infer the poor woman was condemned to a different one each time she slept. _There must be so many_ , Red thinks, _for Aurora to have not landed in this one for however long I've been here._ The implication of that is inescapable: she'll be left to her own devices at least as long as that before she sees Aurora again. Or maybe she won't ever see Aurora again. Maybe there are millions of such prisons scattered all over the ethereal plane they inhabit. Maybe she'll be visited by someone else before then – Snow, perhaps, as her best friend is certain to share Aurora's nocturnal torments due to the sleeping curse they'd both been subjected to.

The thought of seeing Snow again isn't even enough to bolster her flagging spirits. She wants Aurora back. Aurora, who had made her forget for while that she's been sentenced to what might turn out to be an infinite confinement should her worst fears prove true that Regina is dead.

Red whimpers miserably, hating her weakness but powerless to hold back the tide of sorrow that is carrying her away out to sea. She'd just gotten her optimism back just to have it snatched away as quickly as it had returned. The fathomless void of an ocean formed from every negative thought and feeling a person can exhibit has swallowed it up. And who knows whether it will ever be relinquished?

More hollow and yet emotionally overwrought than she can ever remember being, Red surrenders to the seductive drag of depression. Her chest grows heavy as if a millstone has been laid upon it, and her lungs burn like they are on fire. Fat tears cascade down her cheeks in an unstoppable torrent that stains her dress and wets the bare skin of her arms and legs. She feels the wolf curl in on herself, trembling under an assault from which there is no defense or escape. Her human is breaking down. If Regina doesn't rescue her soon, there will be no fixing the damage. What will come out of the sleeping curse won't be a person but an empty shell of no meaningful value.

On the brink of total collapse, Red uses the last vestiges of her willpower to pray to the gods that Regina will find a way to wake her soon or failing that, they would grant her the mercy of of a swift death. She prays this not for her own sake but for Regina's. She would sooner die than subject her wife to a lifetime caring for a psychologically and emotionally incapacitated spouse.

Feeling tiny and useless and nothing but a burden to everyone who has ever loved her, Red curls up into a ball on the filthy floor and tries her hardest to forget she even exists.


	25. The Fairy Queen of Oz

**A/N:** If there are any errors, let me know. I've pretty much stopped further editing of this story altogether. I was also going to add a little scene at the end with Regina and Snow, but I just can't be bothered. Sadly, my interest in this story has been reduced to fulfilling my daily postings. Ah well. I guess that's what happens when I'm finally moving on after the rest of the world did two years ago.

 **Standard Disclaimer** : These lovely characters ain't mine, I just play with them gently. Please don't sue me. The mistakes are mine, though.

* * *

 **Chapter 2** **4** – The Faerie Queen of Oz

Regina does not dare flinch a muscle as the otherworldly stranger approaches. Without even so much as sparing them a stray glance, the wispy beauty snatches Dorothy out of her arms with a strength that belies a willowy stature. Regina only thinks to protest the abrupt action when it's too late to do anything but obey the subsequent command hurtled over a slim shoulder.

"Come inside. Quickly!" the woman hollers, Dorothy hanging limp in her arms as she rushes away in a whirl of effervescent skirts. toward. The annoying dog she chased out of the bucolic little cabin not forty feet away is hot on her heels, yipping with anxious excitement at all the ruckus.

When Snow glances over, unsure of whether or not to heed the invitation, Regina nods her assent. While she does not know the woman who has taken Dorothy, she can evidently be trusted. Dorothy had chosen this place out of all others as her refuge, and that alone is a fairly convincing argument. That said, not having to worry about Snow's safety, or her own, does not extend to their new friend. Dorothy had lost a lot of blood back in the Emerald City. Concern for her spurs Regina forward.

"Come along, Snow," she says, then takes off after the iridescent blonde woman at a light jog.

Upon entering the rustic, spartan abode, Regina quickly surveys the cramped living space. Stuffed into the corner of the open den, there is a dainty bed upon which Dorothy has been laid face down. The blonde who'd snatched her from Regina is kneeling on the floor next to her, inspecting the wound from the arrowhead with a long grimace. She prods it using careful touches and winces apologetically each time Dorothy issues a rumbling groan of protest despite being wholly unaware of what is going on around her.

"She is lucky," the blonde woman comments as Regina and Snow draw near. Her focus never strays from the injured warrior she is administering aid to. "Had the missile not lodged in her shoulder blade, it probably would have pierced her heart."

Now that the surprise has worn off, Regina takes note of the stranger's accent. It bears some resemblance to Zelena's, though only in passing. While her sister spoke and sounded like an uneducated guttersnipe, this woman's enunciation and diction are highly refined – she might even go so far as to say courtly. The timbre of her voice is also far more pleasing to the ear, lacking the nasally quality with which Zelena communicated her rancorous tripe. It is not quite comparable to Red's soft, feminine tonality, but it is soothing just the same in its slightly raspy warmth.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" Snow inquires, causing the yappy mongrel to bark raucously at her. She jumps back, startled.

"Toto! Bad boy!" the woman sternly chastises while Regina smiles wryly, thinking the dog ought to be rewarded for its gumption. Toto whimpers at being so harshly correction, and in response is given a mollifying scratch to the head before the woman then commands, "Go lie down in your bed while I tend to Mommy."

After a yip of understanding, the dog obediently scurries to the opposite corner of the room where a plush little cushion is made up for him. He curls up on it and lays down, head resting on his front paws as he anxiously observes his apparent owner being cared for.

"Now," the woman then addresses Snow with a look of apology, "to answer your question, if you would so be so kind, there is a kettle upon the mantle. It would be a great help to me for you to begin heating some water on the fire so that I can make us some tea. Your companion and I will tend to Dorothy in the meantime."

"We will?" Regina asks, surprised she's being asked to help.

As Snow departs to do as she was asked, eyes the color of rich earth scan up to Regina. In that piercing gaze, she senses that this woman is a keen judge of character. It was as if in that infinitesimally tiny window in time, all of the layers that comprise who she is were peeled away one at a time, leaving her raw and exposed to the assessment of this stranger. The only mitigating factor repressing a negative knee-jerk reaction is her eminent concern for Dorothy.

"If you are amenable to lending a hand," the woman then says more diplomatically. "I am aware you are a practitioner of dark magic but I do not believe your intentions to be pernicious. Am I wrong?" She then peers at Regina again, and the intensity of her critical perusal causes Regina to flush uncomfortably. Shame at being immediately identified as a person who holds darkness inside her tugs again the unexpected kindness with which the woman then adds, "No, I do not believe I am."

"You're not wrong on either count," Regina confirms. "I will help you, if only because Dorothy saved our lives. I owe her."

The woman smiles gratefully and then gestures toward the wound. "Splendid! If you will staunch the bleeding, I will remove the object."

Regina nods, and when she holds her hand out to begin using her magic, the woman levels her own hand over Dorothy's wound, which is seeping precious fluid in worrying amounts, staining her garments and the once pristine white sheets a bright crimson. With her hand hovering atop the wound, the woman draws her index finger and thumb together, as if just having pinched something, and then slowly begins to separate them. As her thumb and index finger draw apart, the wound on Dorothy's shoulder starts to peel open. Blood pours out of the enlarged hole, an unnatural amount for such a wound.

"Why is she bleeding so much?" Regina asks, her heart rate speeding up at the many possible explanations. All of them bad.

"The Witch has all of her archers coat their arrows in the venom of indigo spiders," the blonde supplies. "It thins the blood so that injuries which would otherwise be survivable become life threatening."

Regina's brows raise at her sister's vile creative streak. The less ethical part of her wishes she had thought of such a thing herself back when she was routinely deploying archers in open battle. A venom that can make a scratch potentially deadly would be a perfect tool to strike fear in the hearts of citizens and rival kingdoms alike. The nicer part of her does not wait long before rather loudly objecting to that line of reason. Shame coloring her cheeks, she drives the deplorable thoughts from her mind with prejudice and refocuses on her task.

While her magic works to prevent blood from pouring out of the wound, the woman in white uses her free hand to carefully begin dislodging the arrowhead from the exposed shoulder blade which it punctured. The entire time she works, she keeps her fingers separated to hold the skin and muscle apart. It takes several pulls and even a few wiggles of the arrowhead to dislodge it, but it finally comes free after one last concerted effort.

"Would you be so kind as to repair the bone?" the stranger asks as she examines the broadhead with an almost hateful glare. The expression seems somehow perverse on a woman of such unearthly beauty.

"Of course," Regina replies, and does as asked.

Once the bone is whole again, the woman slowly pinches her fingers back together, and Regina watches, transfixed, as the skin and muscle knit back together with a weaver's skill into unmarred flesh. When the wound is completely closed, she cannot even tell that Dorothy was ever injured. A final murmured spell – Regina assumes this was to eradicate the poison – is woven over Dorothy's inert form before she heaves a deep breath and then allows herself to relax.

"Thank you," the woman says after a taking a moment to further recover. She rises then and gives a deep curtsy, bowing her head respectfully as she dips. The motion is smooth and refined as if from constant practice greeting other heads of state at official functions. A beatific smile spreads across her full lips as she returns upright. "My name is Ozma. Although the circumstances are less than ideal, I am pleased to make your acquaintance."

Regina does not miss the fluid, graceful way Ozma moves. That combined with her accent, posture, and dress would have spelled out precisely who she is, even if she hadn't given her name. After deftly returning the curtsy with one of her own, Regina offers her royal host a knowing smile.

"I assure you, the pleasure is all mine, Your Majesty."

Ozma is visibly surprised by the honorific. "You know who I am?"

"I do, indeed," Regina says. "Dorothy spoke fondly of you and might have mentioned that you are the rightful ruler of this land."

"As the only child of King Pastoria and the Fairy Queen Lurline, I inherited the throne upon my parents' demise," Ozma confirms sadly. She trails off for a moment before adding, "Once upon a time, I was Queen of Oz. Now I am only sovereign over trees, rabbits, foxes, and sparrows."

"Do not despair. You shall be Queen again. And sooner than you think if I have my way," Regina states firmly. "You see, I haven't come to Oz on a whim. I am seeking a cure for my wife, who has been put under a sleeping curse. It can only be cured by True Love's kiss _after_ an antidote is administered to counteract a reagent added to it by the Wicked Witch."

"I am sorry to hear about your wife," says Ozma, clearly distressed at hearing the clipped version of Red's fate. "The Witch truly is well named. Her wickedness knows no bounds. What she did to Glinda alone is unforgivable. Even so, I do not understand what that has to do with the loss of my kingdom."

"It's really quite simple," says Regina in a matter-of-fact tone. She neither sees any reason to belabor the truth or dress it up in pretty words and complex justifications, nor does she think Ozma would appreciate such disingenuous attempts. "If all goes well, Zelena won't be around to keep you from your rightful place. I aim to kill her before I leave."

Ozma's eyes widen comically at Regina's statement. She wonders if the shock is due to her plan to take on the witch who had conquered the realm from an obviously powerful sorceress such as Ozma or whether it is because of the blasé manner which which she stated her intention to remove their mutual festering thorn. _Perhaps_ , she thinks, _it is a little bit of both_.

"Do not be surprised," she then says, addressing Ozma with a confident turn of her lips. "As you are already aware, I am a practitioner of dark magic. What you don't know is that my instructor was none other than the Dark One himself. Zelena is remarkably powerful, yes, but she is fighting for revenge while I am fighting for love. While we don't really know each other, I get the idea that you understand how powerful a motive love is."

"I do," nods Ozma, and then glances down at Dorothy, a tender and wistful look upon her face. She continues to stare at Dorothy as her expression shifts into something more curious. "I wonder, though, why Zelena desires revenge against you. And why are you ready to go to such great lengths to undo her crimes?"

Before Regina can answer, Snow returns inside, a pitcher of water in hand. She shivers from the cold as she fetches the kettle, and both Regina and Ozma watch as she pours enough water into it for four people to take tea. Once the kettle is hanging upon the hook built into the fireplace, she returns to the bedside.

"What did I miss?" she asks, oblivious as ever. Regina sighs as Ozma grins. "What?"

"Nothing, dear," says Regina, "I was just about to debrief Ozma here, our gracious hostess, on events that have lead us to this moment."

After Snow introduces herself like the unflinchingly polite goody-two-shoes she is, she meanders over to the foot of the bed to sit in an armed chair adorned with delicate wood carvings of various forms of wildlife that is cushioned by fluffy looking pillows. Once nestled in snugly, she gestures for Regina to continue.

Regina rolls her eyes at her companion before refocusing on Ozma, though she notices that the deposed monarch looks absolutely tickled at their brief interaction. To prevent any comments from either Snow or Ozma, Regina begins her tale. To her relief neither woman interrupts until she is finished.

Unlike Snow who already knows all of this, Ozma goes through a myriad of emotions, her visage shifting dramatically with each portion of the narrative. She is effervescent with happiness as Regina relates the abbreviated story of how she and Red met and came to fall in love and eventually were married. But when learning about her discovery of Red splayed out in their wash chamber with the green apple that had cursed her in hand, the beautiful blonde grows almost despondent. Relating Zelena's little speech elicits anger that furls Ozma's perfectly arched brows and tints her cheeks a rosy red. That anger then morphs into broiling outrage as Regina recounts how she and Snow stumbled upon Dorothy's magical prison within Zelena's chambers.

"How dare she treat my beloved so despicably!" Ozma erupts after Regina confesses that Dorothy was held captive for over a year. The force of Ozma's fury is frightening. The entire house shakes as she trembles, as if the very earth beneath their feet was tuned in to her emotions. But then she slumps over at the waist and the anger drains out of her all at once. Kneeling by the bed once again, her hand seeks out Dorothy's, and she lifts it to her lips to place a reverent kiss upon the unconscious woman's knuckles. "My poor, poor darling." When Ozma leans in to smooth her hand through matted brown hair and kiss Dorothy's pale pink lips, Regina averts her eyes out respect for the privacy of the moment rather than some hypocritical sense of disgust at such a display of affection among company. When she hears Ozma shift, she turns back to meet a pleading gaze. "Tell me, what did that witch do to my Dorothy? Did she suffer?"

Regina shakes her head. "Not in the way you're thinking," she says, not wanting to be the one to deliver the blow that she knows will rain down on what is clearly a sensitive heart.

Ozma's brows furrow in confusion. "Explain."

Regina's gut tightens as she realizes the effect of what she is about to say will have on the half-fairy queen. From her scant exposure to the woman, she gets the sense Ozma is a creature who is decent down into the depths of soul. She will not understand why Zelena did what she did, and her sense of indignity and horror over how Dorothy was violated will probably be extreme. The reaction is warranted due to how depraved Zelena's actions were, but the thought of Ozma's soul being blemished by them is an uncomfortable one.

 _Hasn't that broccoli bitch ruined enough?_ she thinks, and images flash in her mind of a certain brunette whose purity may not rival that of a fairy queen but is still precious just the same. It seems that wherever Zelena goes, her aim is to corrupt or destroy those whose hearts are good and noble and true. And while that once would have been commendable to Regina, now it is abhorrent. Zelena must be stopped, no matter the cost, to prevent more of this needless suffering.

Although the urge to lie or deflect is strong, Regina decides in this instance the truth is the best medicine. Somehow she knows that Ozma will be able to detect and will not appreciate any attempts at dishonesty.

"Zelena did not actually lay a finger on Dorothy, so keep that in mi-"

"Regina, don't," Snow cuts in, eyes begging her to reconsider.

Although she wants to chastise Snow for the interruption, Regina understands where she is coming from. Preserving innocence, wherever it may be found, is a vital and worthwhile endeavor. There is so little of it in the world that it is a priceless commodity to be protected at all costs. Would that there was a way for her to do so without lying to Ozma! Sadly, there is not. Ozma does not strike her as a woman who enjoys being deceived, however benevolent the reason.

"I have to," she says, resigned to her course yet remorseful for the necessity. "She deserves to know. If I were in her position, I would want to know."

"Know what?" Ozma prods, eyes half-narrowed but wholly frightened. "What did she do to Dorothy? Tell me at once!"

"Dorothy did not say _exactly_ ," Regina begins as delicately as possible. "From what I could gather, I suspect Zelena toyed with her by openly engaging in...lewd acts with various lovers, or perhaps with herself, while Dorothy was a captive audience. She...flaunted those activities in Dorothy's face, even. Mind you, this is only speculation, but from my limited interactions with my sister, such perversity seems like the sort of thing she might resort to for a thrill."

For a moment, Ozma vacillates between shock and disgust. But then her entire demeanor darkens, and she suddenly rises to her feet with her eyes burning in an imperious and thunderous rage.

"Your sister?" she grits out as she approaches. "Your sister did... _that_ to my beloved?"

"I believe so, yes," Regina admits, not hiding, not flinching, meeting Ozma eye-to-eye to show that she has done nothing to be ashamed of. "In my defense, I did not know Zelena existed until she was gleefully rubbing my nose in the mess she made out of my life. Had I known earlier, I may have been able to prevent all of this." She reaches out tentatively and grips Ozma's arms. The action at first causes Ozma to seize up as if she is about to retaliate, but then she deflates and eases into Regina's hold. "But I am here now, Ozma. I know now. I give you my word that I will stop her. And should she not confront me before leaving Oz as I expect, then I will return to help you overthrow her after I save my wife."

"As will I," pipes in Snow, giving a firm nod. "And I'm pretty sure that in that case Red will be happy to lend her unique talents to the effort as well."

"That she will," Regina smiles. "I did not tell you, but my wife just happens to be a werewolf capable of eliminating a company of men all on her own. Before we met, she thwarted many of my plots single-handedly."

"She sounds like a strong, amazing woman. Quite like my Dorothy," Ozma says, and then gives Regina a weak smile that does not last. Overcome with emotion, she turns back to the bed and collapses beside Dorothy, hip-to-hip, brushing her fingers along Dorothy's strong features. "Oh, my poor, poor darling. I'm so sorry this has happened to you!" she again coos, and Regina does not have to see her face to know she is crying.

After giving the distraught Ozma a gentle rub on the back, Regina fixes Snow with a glance and indicates with her head to the door. Snow nods in understanding, and silently they step outside to give the Queen of Oz a moment alone with her lady love.


	26. Of Lions and Tigers, Oh My!

**Standard Disclaimer** : These lovely characters ain't mine, I just play with them gently. Please don't sue me. The mistakes are mine, though.

* * *

 **Chapter 2** **5** – Of Lions and Tigers, Oh My

When Regina and Snow return ten minutes later, they are both shivering from the cold. It is still the dead of night and so close to the mountains the frigid air sweeping down from its icy summit cuts straight through the inadequate layers of their clothing.

With her teeth faintly chattering, Regina steps inside behind Snow to find Ozma still perched by Dorothy's beside. Apparently the deposed queen has not moved a muscle since they stepped out door to give her privacy. With some concern, she notices that while Ozma is no longer demonstratively distraught, her posture practically oozes emotional turmoil. Toto, on the other hand, has been released from his punishment and has relocated to the bed where he is currently snuggled tightly against his owner's side.

"You did not have to stay out there so long," Ozma comments, not taking her eyes off of Dorothy for even a second. "I know it is unbearably cold at night so close to the precipice of the mountain. All the same, I thank for your kind consideration." She then gestures toward a plain silver tray upon the small bedside table. Upon it are several economical tea cups and an equally plain ceramic teapot in which bags are already steeping and whose spout is still belching intermittent puffs of steam. "Would anyone care for some tea to warm up?"

"I sure wouldn't say no," replies Snow as she brushes some freshly fallen exemplars of her namesake from her shoulders that she neglected to clear off while on the porch.

When Ozma lifts an inquiring brow at Regina, she answers with a small smile. "That would be most welcome. Thank you."

After Ozma pours them both a cup and they gratefully accept them, she returns her attention to the sleeping Dorothy. As she sips delicately at the piping hot liquid, Regina intently watches their angelic hostess. There is no denying the tug at her heartstrings as she draws parallels between what she is seeing and how she spent the past week of her life.

How often had she kept vigil beside Red just like Ozma is for Dorothy right now? Was the brave face she put on so similarly to Ozma also glaringly betrayed by the abrasive distress and gnawing fear playing subtly across her features and in her eyes? Did her father and Victor and Iris and the many other friends and servants who were in and out of Red's room look pitiably upon her as she currently is Ozma? If so, there really is no point in trying to maintain appearances back home anymore. Because if she portrayed half as much poignant emotion as Ozma is trying to camouflage, everyone who so much as glimpsed it is now aware how enormous a vulnerability she has.

"By the way, you didn't have to thank us for giving you some space," Snow says after she has finished her tea and replaced it on the tray. As Regina does the same, she sends Snow a silent thanks for mercifully halting her thoughts from carrying on too far down a dangerous path. "You clearly needed time alone with Dorothy," Snow then adds, "and we were happy to let you have it. Both of us are married and have faced..." she gestures lamely, "similar circumstances. We understand how hard it is when a spouse is injured."

"I am not yet married to Dorothy," returns Ozma, seemingly bothered by that fact. "Not for a lack of trying, I should say. I have proposed time and again only to be rejected. Not that she doesn't want to get married, of course, just that she refuses to consider it until I have reclaimed my throne."

Snow smiles at the romanticism in their injured friend's resolve. "If I may ask, how long have you two been together?"

Ozma turns slightly, and then gestures with her hand toward the space beside the bed. A pillowed sofa appears in a flash of verdant light. "Please, sit, and we may converse more comfortably." When both women oblige, Ozma glaces at Dorothy again. Her eyes shimmer wistfully in the softly fire-lit room. "To answer your question, I have known of Dorothy Gale since she was but a young girl – as was I, relatively speaking. She was only twelve years old when a tornado transported her the land of Oz for the first time. During a subsequent adventure, she rescued me from the clutches of a mean old witch named Mombi who changed heads as often as she did her clothes. Not long after Mombi's defeat, she was deceived by Zelena and left our land to return home. I did not even get to say goodbye to my dashing hero. I despaired for the loss of her, for though I had only barely known her for a short time, I had followed her every moment since she was born."

Pausing for a moment, Ozma gestures to a painting over the mantel, and Regina sees that it is a pastoral piece depicting a weathered farmhouse built in a style she has never seen before. The house is surrounded by rows of corn that stretch as far as the horizon while above it is a wide blue sky dotted with fluffy white clouds.

"Dorothy, you see, is not from this world," Ozma continues, "but from a realm called Earth. Incidentally, it is a land without magic, which makes Dorothy's visits here all the more miraculous. This painting was a gift to me from my mother upon my birth. She was a fairy, you see, and had enchanted it to always show me where my True Love is. When Dorothy is nearby, it merely displays the place where she was born. But when she is far away, the picture will be altered to reveal her location. Often it will even feature images of Dorothy herself."

"So it's like a magic mirror," Regina says, drawing a pleased tilt of the lips from Ozma.

"In a sense," Ozma replies. "Unlike a magic mirror, it does not respond to commands. Similarly, however, from within the confines of that very painting, I was able to watch over her. From there, I saw her grow up and flourish under the care of adoptive parents who adored her. I observed her every joy and heartache trying to fit in with other children her age who rarely understood or appreciated her. And when she returned to Earth from Oz, I beheld the unjust persecution she suffered at the hands of cruel physicians. She used that pain to forge herself into the woman you see before you now, someone whose fearlessness is unshakable, whose bravery knows no bounds, and whose beauty arrests my heart on a daily basis.

"Eventually, she returned to Oz, but she was no longer the frightened little girl who left it to escape the wrath of the Witch of the West. Now, as you have no doubt witnessed, she is a proud hero, courageous and strong. Sometimes to her own detriment. The stubborn girl immediately went and confronted the Wicked Witch at the height of her power. When she was defeated and separated from her friends, she was forced to flee into the wilderness alone. For months she was hunted relentlessly before serendipity led her up the mountainside. By the time she stumbled close enough to alert me of her presence, she was nearly freezing to death and half-starved. I had to leave the safety of this place long enough to fetch her and bring her in – not unlike how I did earlier. The risk was worth it, though. Over the next week, I nursed her back to health. We fell in love in the process and have been together ever since. That," Ozma then turns back to them, "was three years ago now."

"Best three years of my life," a rough voice says, and all three women gasp with joy to see Dorothy's eyes crack open. Despite her weakened state, there is a twinkle to their azure depths that only intensifies as she gazes up at Ozma with unfiltered devotion. "Hi, honey. I'm home," she greets in a cheeky manner. "Bit late I know but better that than never."

Ozma grins at first, exuberant at her lover regaining consciousness so quickly. Regina envies her. How she wishes Red had done the same.

"That you are, my little whirlwind. And I do appreciate you keeping your promise, even if you are dreadfully tardy," Ozma says, but then her expression abruptly turns severe. "Just the same, I'll have you know that I do not appreciate being frightened out of my wits. You could very well have died had that arrow hit you two inches to the right." Dorothy starts to respond but is unable to get a word in before Ozma barrels ahead. "Not to mention that you bled all over my favorite sheets. They are ruined, Dorothy. They were a gift from the Kinglet of Phreex. I shan't be able to easily replace them!"

Though Dorothy looks chagrined, she is markedly not terrorized by Ozma's flustered response. Rather, it softens her, makes her eyes shine even brighter, as if the morning sun has risen behind them. "I'm sorry for worrying you, babe," she says gently, fingering the wispy material of Ozma's skirts. "Believe me, I didn't intend on getting skewered by a poisoned arrow."

"She was wounded saving my life," Regina explains, feeling an unusual need to defend Dorothy. "In our escape from the Emerald City, we utilized the siege tunnels to get under the walls of the city. Unfortunately, a patrol of soldiers was waiting for us on the other side. Whether they were merely lucky or their stationing was deliberate, I can't say. They demanded us lay our weapons down, and..." she sighs, glancing apologetically at both Dorothy and Ozma. "We probably should have complied, but I am a proud woman who is not accustomed to admitting defeat. I refused, their archer shot at me, and Dorothy shoved me out of the way, intercepting the missile meant to kill me. I owe her my eternal gratitude for that. And although you have every right to be frightened and upset, Queen Ozma, perhaps the heroics of your beloved might ameliorate that irritation."

"Bah," Dorothy grunts, flushing bashfully at the praise. "Anyone would have done the same. What I did wasn't all that heroic."

"I happen to think it was," Regina disagrees, and Snow adds her own agreement to the disagreement.

"Well, in the light of that helpful information, I am inclined to grant you mercy this once," drawls Ozma, clearly enjoying the banter now as she playfully winks at Snow and Regina.

"Why, thank you, Your Royal Majesty," Dorothy retorts, frowning petulantly. "However shall I repay you for such undeserved charity?"

Ozma grins impishly and then pats Dorothy's hand. "We will see to that after you are fully recovered, my pet," she quips, and then squeals with delight when Dorothy groans, blushing to the roots of her hair. "Your farm girl innocence is so precious. Never change, Dorothy Gale. Never, ever change!" The fairy queen's declaration is given around fits of giggles that sound to Regina as if the ringing of whimsical chimes that dance upon the air. So enchanting is Ozma's merriment that it instantly uplifts her spirits.

In response to the affectionate teasing, Dorothy levels a faux-offended glare at her paramour, which only makes Ozma giggle more. She then drolly says to Regina and Snow, "Do you see what I have to put up with? She teases me like this all the time."

"Be grateful she is here to do so," Regina replies, smiling despite the pangs in her heart that Ozma and Dorothy's interactions have created. "Seeing you two this way makes me sick for home. For my Red. I'd give anything to hear her call me a _no fun stick in the mud_ right now. Only I can't because she's...she's..."

Trailing off, Regina's face falls as images of Red assault her memory. She was so ghastly still in that bed, so quiet and lifeless. How Regina longs for the days when Red's exuberance would drive her mad while attempting to get important work done in her study. And, oh, how she misses the playful needling that never fails to irritate her into tossing back sarcastic retorts which only fuel Red's amusement at her expense. No one else would dare to provoke her so boldly, even in jest, but Red does so with brazen regularity.

" _I've long since stopped being afraid of your temper, woman. Whatever you dish out, I can take,_ " Red had once replied after receiving a knee-jerk threat from Regina that continued prodding would swiftly land her neck deep in troubled waters.

Regina fondly remembers the stirring low in her abdomen that confident assertion had sparked to life, and how she'd advanced on Red like a lioness on the prowl, her canine prey firmly in her sights. She dished out quite a bit of pleasurable punishment on that particular night and was not disappointed when Red more than backed up her boasting.

Their banter is something that Regina has come to treasure, as she is sure is true for Ozma and Dorothy. Such repartee between a couple is a sign of a healthy relationship; it means that they are secure enough with one another to push the boundaries of propriety or offense without fear that their loved one will turn against them. With Red, Regina is free to unharness her verbal expressions at both ends of the spectrum, whether with heartfelt declarations of love or with harsh criticisms of behaviors that rub her the wrong way. No one else is her equal in this way.

In all of her years as Queen, she never met anyone who matched her fondness for witticisms, one-liners, and sassy rejoinders until Red waltzed into her life. Their verbal sparring matches are often the talk of the castle, particularly when they are animated or loud or both. Then, even the closed doors of their private chambers do not dampen the barbs being flung about the room. Unlike with everyone else who got too close, she could never quite manage to drive Red away with her razor sharp tongue. On the contrary, Red seemed to relish the challenge of being with someone who thought being ornery was an acceptable method of showing affection. It was her Granny's fault, she claimed more than once, that she grew up to appreciate a woman whose bark is every bit as dangerous as her bite.

Engaging conversation in the pre-Red era was woefully lacking. Mostly she settled for stimulating her brain via reading as there were few people in the castle she considered capable of nuanced discussion about the complexities of governing, or philosophy, or the shady traditions that were practiced by the various religions active within her borders and within the wider world outside her kingdom. She'd never imagined a staunch believer in celestial deities would turn out to be the one she would engage in lively debate with about the merits of permitting the practice of that religion as a viable means of population control. Or that a peasant could offer sage advice on state affairs or hold her own in discussions revolving around potential construction projects that would benefit the realm. But it seems that Red exists to prove Regina's perceptions wrong at ever turn. As remarkable a physical specimen as she is, she has an intellectual capacity that she guards closely behind that envious curtain of hair and a far-too-pretty face.

One cold winter night early in their relationship, Regina can remember laying curled up on the lounger in her study with her lover of just over six months. A roaring fire, their blankets, comfortable silken night clothes, and their shared body heat kept them warm as they talked well into the night. That was a new thing for Regina, just enjoying the casual yet intimate conversation with the person she was sharing a bed with.

At the time, she was still trying to convince herself that she wasn't in love with Red and failing spectacularly in the light of how different their relationship was. She was not the kind of woman to allow her lovers to sleep alongside her when sex was not involved in the transaction. Even then cuddling was out of the question. Red disregarded those aversions with an abandon that was initially shocking. As their relationship progressed, so too did Regina's appreciation of their rapidly developing domesticity. Luxuriating in the pure acceptance and marrow-deep contentment that exists between them, without the pressure of unreasonable expectations demanding she give more of herself than she is ready to, is every bit as fulfilling as their incredible physical bond.

That particular night they were discussing Regina's plans institute an emergency welfare program based on taxing exclusive luxury items when Red suggested expanding it into a food program for the destitute. There were vast tracts of land owned by the crown, she explained, that were perfectly suitable to grow stock crops on that were most conducive to long term storage, such as grain, corn, beans, onions, carrots, and hardy varieties of potatoes. The idea was so inspired, Regina decided to implement it right away. The measure was one of her first significant strides toward improving her general standing with her citizens.

" _No one ever wanted my opinion on things like that back home,_ " Red had told her later that night after they'd discussed some other complicated topics Regina wanted to gauge the waters of Red's interest on. " _I didn't really do well in school. The wolf inside me kept my brain scrambled up, so it was hard for me to concentrate. To be honest, I thought I was either half-crazy or all stupid. 'A pretty face,' my teachers used to say, 'is all that Lucas girl is and all she'll ever be.' I can't say I ever considered they might be wrong._ "

She'd shrugged and bit her lip diffidently, trying to hide how poorly she'd taken the words. It was clear to Regina, though, that they'd been like poison that seeped into her soul and corrupted her self-confidence. Her heart ached for Red in the present and seethed in anger on her behalf over the past.

Even though Regina had grown up with a mother who was nothing short of a dictator, Cora had the good sense to drill her into recognizing that beauty was a temporary weapon. Accordingly, she was taught to brandish it whenever possible in her youth, which she did and to great effect. But her brain, as was reiterated time and again, was to always be her secret weapon, for it was the greatest asset she had available to her, and one that would keep her on top of the world long after her physical allure dimmed.

Red, on the other hand, was told over and over that her beauty was the total sum of her life. Instructors with straw for gray matter insisted she had nothing of value to offer the world save for giving the world every opportunity to leer at her. It infuriated Regina that she was treated so shoddily, and it made her want to return to Red's village and track down those teachers so that she could rub their noses in the success of the girl they had proclaimed would never amount to anything more than a back to labor with, legs to spread for her future husband, and a belly with which to produce another generation to serve as fodder for the crown. It would have been delicious to watch them fawn all over their new Queen in all of her splendor. Perhaps she might even have made them lick the muddy soles of Red's slippers. The idea was certainly tempting.

The only reason she did not enact that fantasy was because she knew Red would disapprove. Even so, she had endeavored to set right those wrongs in anyway she could, mostly by ensuring Red always felt safe to express her opinion without fear of dismissive scorn or cruel mocking and that her input was valued and appreciated. To bolster a lackluster confidence, she fostered a love of reading in her new paramour, encouraged Red to actively seek out learning any new skills that piqued her interest, and availed her of every scholar and tutor in the kingdom should she wish to study a subject. To her delight and admittedly excessive pride, Red took her up on that offer.

The fruits are plain for all to see. In the seven years they have been together, Red has mastered two new languages, versed herself in court politics so that she is now adept at maneuvering through noble society, and has even learned enough of the fiscal side of ruling a kingdom that she pitches in to help Regina from time-to-time whenever the business of maintaining a vast, powerful, and wealthy state is overwhelming.

And yet, even though Red blossomed intellectually and became more sophisticated in the ways of the world – both by a concerted effort and by consequence of whom she had married – she somehow managed to ward off the mean transformation most elevated peasants undergo. To this day, she remains an ordinary girl who loves to laugh at silly things and dance in the rain and sing songs at the top of her lungs while she imbibes copious amounts of ale with her friends at the tavern. Becoming a royal did not fundamentally change Red as it has so many others. Rather, it merely afforded her the necessary room to spread her wings as far as they would unfurl and taught her boldness that in the process of time inspired courage to leap from the nest and fly. To Regina, watching Red soar through life on the brisk winds of her own capabilities is the most beautiful sight in the world, and she desperately wants to see it again.

"Don't worry. We'll save her," says Dorothy, breaking Regina out of her reverie. There is a promise written in those steely eyes and her words are spoken as an unbreakable oath. "Just give me a few minutes and I'll accompany you to the grove so you can retrieve what you need to counteract that witch's curse."

"You most certainly will not," Ozma objects, tone commanding more than a simple stating of her wishes. "You need to rest for at least a day before moving. I'll not hear of you putting yourself back in harm's way before you are properly healed. I mean that, too, Dorothy Gale!"

Dorothy begins to protest being dictated to, but Regina holds up her hand to stop it. "It is night yet, and I see little reason for us to continue our journey this very hour. Besides that, Snow and I could also use some rest. Snow is a little out of shape," which draws a whiny complaint she ignores, "and I need to recuperate my energy. Transporting us here drained significant portions of my energy. I will need every last ounce to defeat my sister should she arrive at the Grove earlier than planned."

When Ozma's eyebrows raise in a silent question, Regina explains their successful attempt at subterfuge which has Zelena looking for them where they are not.

"You are a clever one, aren't you?" returns Ozma, lips quirked up at the edges, inordinately pleased that someone has finally managed to one-up the source of her every trouble.

Regina smirks proudly. "I like to think so. Having said that, if you would be so gracious as to grant us permission, I see no reason why we cannot stay here tonight. We can further discuss our plans for the grove in the morning."

Ozma nods and gives her an accommodating smile. "That is an acceptable compromise." She then quirks an eyebrow at her partner. "What about you, darling? Can you agree to those terms?"

Drawing in a deep breath, Dorothy lets it out slowly through her nose and grumbles, "Fine. One night." And then she crosses her arms over her chest, a defiant look settling over her features. "But first thing in the morning, I intend to be out of this bed, Ozma. So don't get any bright ideas about conking me out or restraining me with magic, even if it is ' _for your own good, Dorothy Gale._ '"

"Why, I would never resort to such underhanded tactics!" Ozma gasps, hands at her chest in a dramatic show of affront.

Dorothy's brows raise to her hairline as she gives Ozma a crooked grin. They are about to begin bantering again, and Regina is torn between thinking it adorable and disgusting. When the thought occurs to her that this is what she and Red probably are like most of the time, she supposes she can allow it to fall into the category of adorable. Only since Ozma is infinitely fascinating, though, and because Dorothy has earned her respect. _Yes_ , she tells herself, _only because of that_ …

"Oh?" Dorothy shoots back, brow arched. "What about that time I got my foot caught in a fox trap and you tied to me to this very same bed for two whole days just so I wouldn't get up and walk around on it!"

Ozma shrugs and studies her fingernails. "It was snowing outside if you'll remember. I couldn't risk you tripping up and freezing to death because you are too stubborn for your own good. And besides that I enjoy doting on you. The sight of you in bonds and at my mercy was merely icing on the cake."

Dorothy glares at her and then turns conspiratorial eyes on Regina. "Is your wife ever as obstinate as this one over here?"

Regina barks out a laugh. "Oh, my dear, you really have no idea." She settles back into the sofa and recrosses her legs as she begins to tell a story that she often recounts just to embarrass Red. "There was this one time I wanted to take her to a circus that was passing through the realm. My father took me several times as a child, but she'd never been before. I thought it would be something she would enjoy because she is a fairly rabid nature lover. I was wrong. She would simply not hear of it.

"' _Did you know they have lions and tigers?_ ' she asked me, just so deadly serious that it was more comical than convincing. I had heard that, of course, and seen it in person which was why I wanted to take her in the first place. When I told her that, she shot back, ' _Well, you just go on your own then,_ ' _cause there is no way in hell I'm getting within a mile of those… those…beasts.'_ "

Regina chuckles as she remembers the exchange, how she'd barely held herself together to keep from laughing at Red's obvious disquiet. She continues the tale, a smile splitting her cheeks. "' _What's this?_ ' I replied, watching her shudder from head to toe, ' _Is my Big Bad Wolf scared?_ '

"' _Am I scared_?' she said, ' _Of freakishly big, vicious, terrible, smelly felines? You bet your tanned little ass I am! Some things are just unnatural! Hell, woman, I'd rather eat Victor's cooking for a year than get within a hundred feet of them. So, I don't care how much I love you or how much you beg me, I'm not going._ ' and by the gods, she was right. I could not convince her to go no matter how hard I tried."

By the end of the story, everyone is in peals of laughter, including Regina. Finding herself relaxed and on a roll, she launches into another story about the time Red refused help decorating for Yuletide and wound up with scratches all over her arms from the wreaths and endless strings of garland tangled in her hair. After that, Snow volunteers one of her own about Charming spending an entire day mucking the royal stables – in the nude – because he lost a ridiculous bet with Grumpy he was too proud to call off. Regina files that information away in her memory for later use as blackmail material. Dorothy then pipes up with one about a hilarious adventure Ozma had chasing Toto when he took off after a rabbit while she had him out on a walk. Next, Ozma animatedly relates an equally amusing tale about Dorothy nearly burning the cabin down trying to cook. Before they know it they have chattered away well into the night.

Needless to say, they are all tired, yawning, and ready to retire for the night by the time the fire is on its last embers so that Snow has to stoke it and add a few logs. Despite that, and in spite of the circumstances, Regina can't help but feel positive about her prospects for success and far more happy in general than she should. As such, she doesn't argue when Ozma calls an end to their commiseration, citing Dorothy's recent run in with an angry arrow as an impetus to force her to try and get some more rejuvenating sleep.

After tucking Dorothy back in, the rightful ruler of Oz escorts Regina and Snow into a spare room that is bare and nondescript save for a few lifelike paintings of forests. One artwork depicts a wintry coniferous piece while the other portrays a deciduous forest in autumn that is characterized by leaves that seem to gleam upon the canvass in brilliant shades of orange and yellow and red and gold.

With a flick of her wrist, Ozma summons two beds into the unfurnished room, one in each corner, topped by thick blankets and smooth looking sheets. The casual display of power would have been something Regina would normally gush over if she was not so exhausted.

"I apologize for the lack of suitable accommodations," the fairy queen comments once the beds are in place. "It is not my guest chambers back in the Palace, but it will have to do."

"Don't apologize. This is wonderful," Snow replies as she traipses over to the bed she's chosen and sits upon it. She bounces up and down a few times, a satisfied smile on her face. "When I was an outlaw, I got used to sleeping on the ground, so I'm good with anything remotely soft. This is more than adequate for my needs."

"Which explains so much in your choice of a husband," Regina quips, and is surprised that Snow laughs, having actually found her joke humorous rather than offensive.

Again, Regina is stricken by a bout of ungainly happiness, and this time she almost feels bad for allowing herself even a solitary moment of joy amidst all of this tragedy. But she knows it is important to stay positive. For Red's sake. She cannot afford to let her anxieties rule her mind or her heart, for if they do, she will surely fail the test when it comes, and to fail the test means certain death for her, or at the very least, to lose Red forever. Regina is not ready to die, and she is not ready to let go of Red, so she clings to the warmth of the friendship she has just experienced, and lets it carry her through the loneliness of a night away from home, a night away from the woman who will forever hold her heart hostage.

"Good night, my love," she whispers into the night a few minutes later once Ozma is gone and she and Snow are both buried beneath the luxurious covers. She allows her eyes to slip shut against the tears that gather in them, turns to the wall, and then murmurs as if speaking into Red's ear. "Even so far away, I feel you in my heart, like if I reached out, I could touch you. I love you so much. I don't say it enough, but I swear I'll make amends when I fix this. And I am going to fix this, Red. I'm going to save you. I don't care what I have to do. You are too precious a commodity in this unforgiving world to be wasted on my sister's lust for revenge. I won't allow her or anyone else to take you away from me."

"Did you say something, Regina?" Snow asks from across the room, sluggish voice indicating she is half-asleep already.

Regina bites her lip painfully to steady her thumping heart and to quell her urge to cry. "No, Snow. Go to sleep," she replies, surprisingly able to keep her tone even with an appropriate hint of annoyance.

"Oh," Snow says around yawn. "Well, then, goodnight again."

"Good night."

And with that, Regina takes a long, steady breath and then lets it out slowly. She filters through her memories for one by which to lull herself to sleep. She chooses a day she'd been persuaded to go fishing at a nearby lake with Red and her father. In her mind, she can hear the sounds of Red laughing until she was crying after her father overextended himself in a particularly spirited cast of his fishing pole that landed him face first in the sticky mud lining the banks. That was such an amazing day, and she wants to have many, many more of them, as many as she can fit into a year's time over decades and decades of a life spent together with her family. She will settle for nothing less.

Unbeknownst to her, she falls asleep with a smile on her face to the image of her wife and her father sitting shoulder to shoulder upon a boulder by the shore. Their matching looks of contentment as they stare out over the peaceful waters under a low-hanging sun warm her from the inside out. As the serenity of that moment echoes in her heart, sleep claims her and she knows no more..


	27. Are Made of This

**Standard Disclaimer** : These lovely characters ain't mine, I just play with them gently. Please don't sue me. The mistakes are mine, though.

* * *

 **Chapter 22** – Are Made of This

Regina wrenches awake with a start. Panting heavily, she frantically surveys her surroundings, unsure of what has so rudely snatched her out of a blissfully dreamless slumber. Her fight or flight response has adrenaline coursing through her veins and magic tingling her fingertips. She lays there for a long space, listening and waiting to the haunting backdrop of the wind whipping against the window. With an aggrieved sigh, she closes her eyes and flops back down onto the mattress to try and get back to sleep.

In an incidental moment of perfect timing, the second her head hits the pillow, she finally hears the noise that roused her. A groan from across the room filters her direction, low but audible, and accompanied by a frenetic shifting of linens. The familiar sound is an echo from a distant past she would love nothing more than to forget. Snow is dreaming.

Another groan pierces through the silence, slightly louder this time, laced with an affliction that is sadly identifiable. Regina is often enough exposed to the tell-tale indicators to recognize someone caught in the throes of a nightmare. Red relives the night Peter was killed frequently enough that she has developed an eerie sensitivity to them that wakes her at the most minute signs.

The horrific memories from the wolf's perspective of events unexpectedly reemerged as she was training Red to fully master her alter ego. As a result of that unearthing, Red was plunged into a period of weeks where blood-curdling nightmares terrorized her nearly every other night. It was all Regina could do to maintain her composure through the sometimes oppressively bleak, sometimes deliriously histrionic, and always emotionally messy aftermath. Having to piece Red's fragmented confidence back together during the day was bad enough. Sleepless nights also became common once again during that period, which in combination with the stressful nights, pushed her to the outer limits of her psychological tolerance.

None of it was Red's fault, of course. Once she was snuggled, petted, kissed and vocally soothed back into a fitful slumber, Regina would just lay there, unable to lull herself back under. Not willing to risk moving and upsetting her re-traumatized lover, she would occupy herself by vacillating between staring at the ceiling to run through the latest civil or political problem at the fore of her mind and watching Red like a hawk. With greedy, fretting eyes, she would remap every available inch of porcelain flesh and every line of a face that epitomizes human aesthetic perfection, tracing them with feather-light touches meant to reassure the giver as much as comfort the recipient. Meanwhile she was also listening intently to Red's breathing and praying the little intermittent whines she heard and twitches she felt were not another episode building up. If she was lucky, she got two or three hours. If she was not, nary a wink was there to be had. Loving someone more than oneself, she realized, has its drawbacks.

Another thing she learned from that ordeal with Red is to never allow her to stay under and hope for the best. She was given explicit instruction to wake her if she thought a nightmare had its claws in her. And while Snow is not Red, and whatever is plaguing her right now is not nearly as traumatizing as watching herself turn into a mythical monster then devour the man she loves, it is undoubtedly something she would prefer to be awakened from. Knowing what she does from personal experience and from dealing with Red, it would be needlessly cruel to leave her at its mercy for the rest of the night.

Stifling a yawn, Regina swings her legs out of bed. Before standing, she brushes over her slightly mussed locks. Needing to relieve some of the building pressure behind her temples, she had elected to let her hair down for bed rather than tie it up as she normally would have without ready access to a bath. Once upright, she smooths down the wrinkles on the modest gown she had summoned for herself and Snow to wear and then pads over to the other bed occupying their tiny room.

The Queen of the White Kingdom is laying on her side, covers tucked under her armpits, a distressed frown souring her loveliest-of-them-all features. To Regina's surprise, it hurts to witness Snow in such torment. Not long ago she would have been more than happy to enjoy the girl's anguish instead of relieve it, and she marvels briefly at the change in attitude.

As she kneels down at the bedside, she feels very much like she has been displaced in time over a decade. No longer is she in Oz, having instead been transported back to the Dark Palace before it gained the sinister appellative that reflected its mistress. During those early days of her marriage to Leopold, her hatred of Snow had yet to root deeply enough into her heart that she was immune to her new step-daughter's occasional night terrors. A number of times she woke the young girl from the throes of dreams so vivid and terrible that Snow was sobbing in her sleep, crying out for her mother not to leave, that she was sorry for what she had done and would never do it again if she'd just stay for one more minute.

After waking Snow one particularly rough night, the child confessed she had been responsible for her mother, Eva, perishing prematurely. It was the closest Regina felt to sympathy for the girl since Daniel died, and it was the most she ever permitted thereafter. That was the last night she tended to Snow's distress personally. The task was thereafter delegated to the princess's handmaiden. Months of abuse in Leopold's bed eventually hardened her enough to quench any lingering guilt over Snow's continual nocturnal suffering.

But now so many years on, she is feeling it again, and she is so disconcerted by the resurgence that she freezes up. For a moment, she procrastinates doing what she knows she should. Like a lump of useless clay fashioned into an immobile figurine, she merely neutrally observes while Snow's head thrashes from side to side and great beads of sweat roll down her clammy cheeks as she murmurs nonsensical phrases no highly educated linguist or philologist can translate. It is only when her fellow Queen's face begins to show signs of critically elevating distress that Regina snaps out of her inaction.

Reaching out a tentative hand, she shakes Snow by the shoulder. "Snow," she calls, but the whimpering woman does not respond. Regina shakes her more forcefully. "Snow, wake up." Twice more, she increases her efforts, her voice rising with each one. But Snow does not escape from the iron grip of the nightmare, and only grows increasingly agitated.

Concern begins to rise up in Regina so that she stands to her feet, leans over Snow, and begins shaking her violently with both hands. "Snow White! You wake up this very instant!" She whispers as forcefully as she feels she can without waking Dorothy and Ozma who are sleeping in the next room. And yet, Snow refuses to obey. On the verge of actual panic, and feeling like she is out of options, Regina resorts to drastic measures. She rears back her hand and delivers a firm slap to Snow's cheek. The sound of flesh meeting flesh rings through the room loud enough that she cringes. But the gambit works. With a hoarse shout, Snow bolts up nearly off the bed, panting like she has just run a marathon.

"Relax. It's just me," Regina poses, hands held out in a gesture meant to calm the disorientated, wild eyed woman. "It's Regina. We're in Oz to save Red's life. Remember?"

For just a second, Snow looks even more terrified as she rubs at her smarting cheek, and that wariness is wholly directed at Regina. In her discombobulated state, she has reverted to deeply ingrained instinct. Even after all these years of an undeclared peace, she is still afraid of her former step-mother.

"I'm not going to hurt you," Regina soothes, or at least does her best to. She has never had a gentle touch, still doesn't, even with Red sometimes. She gives it her best effort all the same. "It's alright now. You can relax. You were just having a nightmare."

The last sentence seems to the be the one that breaks through Snow's fog. Awareness returns to her eyes and after a few more soothing rubs to her cheek, she slumps back against her pillows with a sigh of relief. She then peers at Regina through slightly less wary eyes. "Regina?"

Regina relaxes her face into a more gentle expression. "Yes, dear. Did you hear any of what I just said?"

Snow nods. "I was having a nightmare. I remember it. I was back in the Burning Room."

The mention of the Burning Room causes Regina to flinch as if stricken, and for more than one reason. Obviously, the main one is that it is where Red's soul is currently trapped and being subjected to suffocating terror and unending isolation. The other reason, the one she's more hesitant to acknowledge, is that she is responsible for Snow's nocturnal visitations to that hellish place.

Unbidden, she flashes back to about three months after Red became her lover. Quite unexpectedly, Regina learned George had captured his dead son's wayward twin and was fixing to execute him. This presented an opportunity to finally get Snow that was so poetic she could not pass up. After arranging for Charming to be transferred into her custody, she sent word to Snow that if she did not meet Regina at Daniel's grave, Prince Charming would die. Much like her wicked half-sister, Regina poisoned an apple from her own tree with a sleeping curse, and then forced Snow to eat from it to save her dashing prince's life. Of course, Snow fell on her sword like any good little martyr would and thus was cursed. While her body was housed in a glass coffin in the woods by the outlaw's seven vertically challenged idiots, her soul was banished to the Burning Room just like Red's is right now.

Tragically, Snow was freed not long after by True Love's kiss, but that is not the point. Those who have been condemned for even an hour to that place can never fully escape its fiery grasp. From time to time, it will pull former residents back to it in their dreams so that they may relive their torment for a few hours. It really is the gift that keeps on giving, which was precisely why Regina chose to use it on her mortal nemesis.

Of course, when Red found out what she did, she confronted her with absolutely no regard for her own well-being. Heedless of the audience of nobles gathering to watch their confrontation, she metaphorically chewed Regina up one side and down the other. No one had ever dared to speak to the Queen that way without paying the price for their insolence, especially not in public. And while pride prevented Regina from apologizing, it was love for Red that stayed her hand from issuing a hasty, ill-conceived punishment that would have irreparably damaged their relationship.

When Red stormed out of the castle swearing that she never wanted to look upon her again, Regina let her go. She commanded her guards to allow Red safe passage out of the citadel, and to make no attempts whatsoever to detain her. As she watched her lover commandeer a horse and ride through the front gates, her cheeks wet with tears and crimson from anger and anguish, Regina felt something inside of her break.

As soon as Red was gone, she flew into a hideous rage. Uncaring who heard or questioned her sanity, she ransacked her chambers and after breaking every item made of glass in sight set about burning various items of Red's clothing left behind. For good measure, she then torched the bed sheets under which they made love the night before. When that was done, she retired to the dungeons to personally oversee a particularly obstinate prisoner's torture as a way of venting her rage. Sometimes when she closes her eyes, she can still hear that poor woman's screams...

As it goes with such fits of temper, though, it eventually faded. In it's wake, all that was left was an emptiness that seemed bottomless, like a hole drilled through the earth from one side to the other that hollow out its core, only the earth was her and the vacated core was her heart. Not even her supposed victory over Snow could spark any meaningful warmth or joy. It was as if when Red rode away from the Palace that day, she took something invaluable and precious with her that were never coming back.

Over the proceeding two weeks, Regina did little more than rule her kingdom in an utterly detached, completely perfunctory manner. When she was not numbly going through the motions of being Queen, she distracted her mind by reading, but never got very far before the words began to spill together into illegible scribble. The longer Red's absence drug on, the harder it got to maintain any form of professional detachment from her unanticipated reaction.

Through bloodshot eyes with dark bags beneath them, the truth was staring back at her every time she looked in the mirror. It was written upon skin so wan as to appear deathly ill, and was evident in hair that lost its luster and a posture that became criminally indifferent. It took a long time for her to recognize what she was seeing as what it was: she was in mourning. Without her even being aware, Red had burrowed so deeply in to her very essence that she had reached an area no one else had since Daniel. It was only then, in the face of her own destitution, that she realized she had fallen in love. Only it was too late to say the words. Red was gone, she was never coming back, and it was all _her_ fault.

Regina will never forget the night that horrible reality at last sank in.

\\\\_\\\\_||0||_/_/

 _Wracking sobs shook Regina's entire body as she struggled to hold the unglued fragments of her psyche from splintering apart. Once again, she was alone. And even though Snow remained blessedly cursed, she could not feel anything except the emptiness of a defeat from which she would probably never recover. Every breath she took was a war waged. Every beat of her heart bewailed her thoughtlessness. And her chest constantly ached as though there was a gigantic boulder resting on it. Every room she entered seemed to be shrouded in oppressively gloomy shadows without Red's innate incandescence and impossibly beautiful smile around to chase them away. Food lost it's taste, wine it's sublime texture, and sex it's primal appeal. Sleep was virtually impossible. Her bed was unbearably cold without her own personal furnace wrapped all around her from shoulder to calf. At night she was reduced to pacing her barren bedchambers – cleaned from her childish tantrum but left purposefully unadorned – until exhaustion claimed her and she passed out in one of her plush reading chairs or curled into a ball on the floor, trying to hold herself together for an hour or two of fitful rest. She was a once proud temple erected to proclaim the glory of love, left destitute and crumbling from the inside out with no reprieve in sight._

 _It wasn't supposed to be that way. Cursing Snow was to be her master stroke. Her checkmate move. Her ultimate triumph. What it ultimately accomplished was to uncover her greatest, formerly hidden, achievement. Miraculously, and quite unbidden, she had learned how to love again with the only person in all the world who possibly was capable of loving her in spite of knowing her. And she had pissed it all away on a revenge that suddenly meant nothing._

 _Just when she thought she was coming to terms with living her life devoid of emotion and was starting to contemplate ripping out her own heart to forever bury it just so she could move on, she heard a commotion in the courtyard below. When she glanced out the grand window of her bedchambers, she caught sight of a familiar red cloak. Heart hammering in her chest, she rushed out the door and ran down the hallway, heedless of propriety. Servants gasped at the sight of her shouting at them to move as she bowled over anyone who got in her way. She could not have cared less who was watching her embarrass herself when the impossible had happened. She moved so fast that she arrived in the courtyard before Red could finish her conversation with one of the many guards who harbored not-so-secretive crushes on her._

 _Panting, flushed from her exertion, and so full of emotion she could barely stand up straight, Regina stepped out into sunlight only to be met with green eyes so conflicted that shame crawled its way up her spine._

 _Red looked out over the handful of guards milling about the courtyard. "Could you guys give us a minute?" When they all nodded and dispersed, she approached Regina, face a mixture of so many emotions that Regina could not decipher them all. "I'm so mad at you that I can hardly see straight," she had said upon arriving before Regina, a step between their bodies that felt like an impassable mile._

" _I know," Regina breathed, biting her lip, eyes blurring rapidly. She was trembling, but hiding it well enough that only Red could tell. And even though she wanted to smooth things over with her lover, she'd known that it was a time for honesty, a time to put all of her cards out on the table. It was time to stop being, as Red would say, chickenshit and woman the hell up._

" _I'm sorry you're angry with me," she continued, "but I'm not sorry about what I did." Red stiffened at the seemingly unrepentant statement, and would have fled right then had Regina not clutched at her hands to keep her from moving. "I could have done so much worse, Red. I could have crushed her heart as would have been just since she all but crushed mine. But I didn't. I only cursed her. For that, I cannot and will not apologize."_

 _When Red started to say something, appearing almost as infuriated as the day she'd left and nearly destroyed Regina in the process, she had stopped any and all protestations with a finger firmly pressed to supple lips. Red glared daggers at her but said nothing as Regina continued to explain her actions as best she could._

" _What Snow did to me is not something I can ever forget and am unlikely to ever forgive," she then said, evoking a past history that she knew Red was aware of. Her mention of it softened Red enough that Regina felt some of her panic ease that Red would decide her return was a bad idea. "Regardless, I have come to a very hard realization. When you left..." She paused, struggling to put express herself adequately. It was hard enough to live through Red walking away from her, to process the possibility she may never see her beloved werewolf again, but to put those feelings into words was neigh on impossible. But she'd owed Red her best attempt, so she'd drawn a shaky breath, and then bravely pressed forward. "When you left, I fell apart. I was miserable. More miserable than I've ever been before. You know I've never been particularly in touch with my emotions. It's no surprise really that it took me sinking into a depth of sorrow I didn't know I could reach to realize that...that..."_

" _That what Regina?" Red had gently prodded, relaxing her hand so that she could thread their fingers together. "Talk to me," she then implored, green eyes begging for honesty. "I came back for a reason, and it wasn't because I hate you. I love you! I love you so damn much that it scares the absolute holy hell out of me. Certainly too much to walk away forever, even after you did something so reprehensible that I can hardly fathom it. And yet I'm here. I'm listening. So for once, be honest with me and with yourself."_

\\\\_\\\\_||0||_/_/

And so Regina had done just that. She told Red the plain truth. That she loved her and thought she was ready to try moving past her unhealthy obsession with Snow White to build something positive. And that she wanted to do that together because Red meant more to her than anything and anyone else. While that was not enough to erase what she did, it was sufficient to begin the healing process.

But that wound has probably never healed for Snow. Regina has never apologized about what she did to her former foe, and she isn't about to do so now, even though she does feel guilty for Snow's suffering.

"Oh, Regina, I saw her," Snow then says, ignorant of Regina's internalizing. Rather than looking distraught as Regina expected, her expression turns hopeful. "When I was in the Burning Room, I saw Red."

"You did?" Regina asks, dropping to her knees once more and pressing in close. "How is she? How did she look? Did she say anything to you?"

"She was curled up in a corner, oblivious to the world," Snow tells her. "She looked exhausted, like she had been crying for hours and finally wore herself out. I tried and tried to get her to respond to me, but it's like she was comatose while still awake if that makes any sense. Her wrists and mouth were all bloody, too, but the good news is that she's still alive."

Regina gasps, clutching her chest as the desire to weep claws at her throat. Red's mouth and wrists were bloody? _What the hell happened to her in there?_ She chokes down her sorrow, though, and focuses on to what Snow is really trying to tell her. Red is still alive!

"Then all isn't lost," she says, and smiles right along with Snow.

"I told you. There's always hope."

Snow's words ring in Regina's ears as she climbs back into her own bed minutes later and closes her eyes. She tries not to think of Red, bloody and incapacitated like a living ghost in that gods-forsaken room. Instead she clings with shameless desperation to the fact that Red is still alive, still holding on, just like Regina had begged her to. Red is doing her part, and tomorrow it will be time for Regina to do hers.

Determined more than ever to accomplish her mission of acquiring the ingredients that will cure Red, she drifts off into a light slumber, images of her reunion with a whole and happy Red dancing through her dreams.

The next time Regina wakes it is to a blue bird merrily chirping on the window sill located between the two beds Ozma had summoned for her and Snow the night before.

"Oh, for pity's sake," she grumbles upon seeing Snow already up, cooing at the colorful little thrush through the glass panes. "Can't you go anywhere without your fine feathered friends showing up?"

"Apparently not," Snow replies, smiling. "Did you sleep well?"

"I slept," Regina says, "which is a marked improvement of how things normally go when I'm away from home." She glances up at Snow who is looking at her knowingly. "Away from Red," she amends. Sitting up, she brushes a hand over her wild locks to smooth them down and then has to smother a yawn that works its way up her entire body from toe to mouth.

Snow nods sympathetically. "It's hard sleeping alone again after getting used to one person always being there next to you. Your body gets used to their presence. It's jarring when they're absent."

"I suppose it is," Regina says, still grumpy from having been awakened so rudely by such awfully chipper noises. She never has been a morning person, and is incredibly surprised to see Snow looking so happy after the nightmare she'd had.

The only bright spot in the morning is that Snow seems to not want to talk about it as much as Regina does. Drawing hope from Snow's vision of Red in the Burning Room is a good thing, but not a subject she wants to dwell on lest her thoughts turn sour. She is keeping herself on task by ignoring Red's current whereabouts and her sorry state as much as humanly possible. It is perhaps a heartless way of dealing with reality, but it is the only way she knows how to cope without going stark raving mad.

A sharp rap of knuckles on the door rescues her from those troubling thoughts. When Snow glances over, she nods her assent at accepting company. Although rumpled and unfit for entertaining a foreign queen so early, Regina is not about to be rude to her most gracious and hospitable host. And besides, she is a queen herself, and what is the good in being Queen if one cannot receive visitors even when they are disheveled?

After Snow calls for Ozma – Regina assumes it is Ozma because she doubts the willful woman will have let Dorothy out of bed just yet – the door opens, and Ozma comes through as Regina had expected.

"Ah, I see our guests are awake already. Good morning to you both!"

The perfectly put together and always radiant woman greets them with such enthusiasm that Regina nearly gags. It is almost sickening how much buoyant energy currently inhabits the room in the form of Snow and Ozma. In the midst of it, she feels like an island of grouchiness surrounded by a sea of unrelenting positivity.

Even so, she manages to grouse out a fairly distinguishable if not half-hearted, "Good morning," in Ozma's direction.

The blonde tilts her head. "I see someone is a bit surly this morning," she comments. "Did you not sleep well?"

"I slept fine," Regina answers, not at all in the mood for this discussion, any discussion really, so early in the morning. Mostly, she just wants to be left alone.

"She's not a morning person," Snow supplies with remarkable diplomacy that Regina is grateful for, and then moves over to join Ozma by the door. "Give her a few minutes to collect her wits and she'll be back to her sassy self."

Ozma gives a curt nod. "Ah. Well, whenever her Majesty is suitably composed, I have prepared breakfast for us."

"I won't be long," Regina says, and then watches the two leave, Snow casting an understanding smile back to Regina before she shuts the door behind her.

In the welcome silence, Regina takes a long breath and slides her legs out from underneath the covers and then hangs them over the side of the bed. Toes pressing onto the rough-hewn wooden floors, she props herself up with locked elbows, hands pressing into the mattress, fingers facing behind her.

Her latest and mercifully brief conversation with Snow this morning reverberates in her mind, and she is suddenly thrown back into that loneliness derived from being so far away from home. All she wants is to be back in her own bedchambers, to be greeted by Iris' kind smile and polite silence as the handmaid prepares Regina for another stressful day of ruling a kingdom that stretches for a hundred miles in every direction. She wants to eat breakfast with her wife and her father, to start her day with the two most important people in the world to her, and to face the world knowing that she has their unconditional love.

But for now, she will have to suffer the distance, much as she often has had to as a ruler required to pay periodic visits to villages and garrisons along the length and breadth of her realm. For now, she will have to take her morning meal with two people she barely knows – not that she isn't fond of Ozma and Dorothy because she already is – and another that she once fantasized about murdering on an hourly basis. The situation is far from ideal, but it is what it is. To save Red's life, enduring a bit of socializing is not so bad. Besides, it is really not a distasteful thought to be sharing her morning with the same people who had entertained her so thoroughly the night before.

In all, Regina spends another five minutes alone in the impromptu bedroom before emerging, looking put together and regal as always, although still in her leathers, which are now clean thanks to her magic.

"Feeling better?" Ozma asks from her position at the head of the little table she, Snow, and Dorothy are seated around. Toto is two feet away from the table, eagerly scarfing down his own breakfast. Regina does not ask what substance the brown, mushy looking stuff is, and she does not want to know.

Arrayed in a pale green off-the-shoulder blouse and gray woolen breeches, Ozma's blonde curls are left down to spill across ivory skin and drape down nearly a quarter of her back. She is notably absent her crown of woven gold, though she is every bit as resplendent in majesty as if she were arrayed for a formal banquet. Dorothy, on the other hand, is still dressed in her blue garb sans her cloak, weapons and belt. Divested of her utilities, she looks very ordinary while seated next to the extraordinary Ozma, and the contrast between them is stark. Regina imagines that her wonderment at it is similar to what people experience when they consider her own relationship with Red.

Plain of dress and speech though she is, Dorothy is beautiful and seems much better in terms of her health, which Regina is pleased to see. Her skin has regained its lightly bronzed tone and her pretty blue eyes are bright with life. She smiles at Regina as she enters, and despite being unapproachable moments before, Regina finds herself smiling back.

"I am," she says. "I apologize if I seemed ungrateful or rude. I am long accustomed to rising quite early, but as Snow said, I am not a morning person. I'd prefer to sleep in most days. Unfortunately, being a Queen means that isn't an option."

"That," Snow chirps from her seat to Ozma's right, "and you are married to a woman who is up with the sun, sometimes before that even, and yet always has a smile on her face."

Regina chuckles. "Indeed. My wife's good mood of a morning can be irritating, but that smile of hers always makes the coming tedium of rule tolerable."

"Poor substitutes we may be," Ozma then says, "but perhaps our company might suffice to at least marginally brighten your day." She gestures to the seat opposite her at the other end of the table. "Won't you sit and breakfast with us, Queen Regina?"

Regina nods. "Certainly, Your Majesty," she returns with a polite dip of the head, and then moves over to the table and slides into her seat.

She looks out over the table, surveying the delectable bounty that has been prepared by Ozma for them. Eggs, sunny-side up of course, are upon each plate, accompanied by strips of bacon, hashed potatoes topped with a creamy cheese, and golden biscuits of such prodigious fluffiness that they seem to be made of cloud-stuff rather than flour, sugar, salt, yeast, butter and milk.

"It looks delicious," Regina comments. "Thank you for preparing it for us."

Ozma preens under the praise. "Why, you are most welcome, my fellow potentate. I only hope it tastes according to your liking."

"I'm certain it will," Regina smiles politely.

Dorothy scoffs lightly in her direction. "Don't lay it on too thick or she'll get a big head."

"Oh, quiet you," Ozma shoots back, sticking her tongue out playfully as she swats Dorothy's hand. "Don't listen to her," she then adds. "She's only bitter because the only thing she can make without burning it is toasted marshmallows, and those are supposed to be burned. My Dorothy has many admirable and praiseworthy talents. Cooking is not one of them."

"Wow," Dorothy grumps, crossing her arms over her chest. "I think that arrow you dug out of my shoulder hurt less."

"Oh, I'm only teasing," says Ozma, who reaches out to take Dorothy's hand. "I love you just as you are, and you know that."

Regina hisses under her breath at the phrase, _I love you just as you are_. It is something she has heard from Red so often that it has started to lose some of its efficacy. Recently, it had even started to sound like a confession of Red's longsuffering with her less than admirable character traits that was more irritating than reassuring. But hearing spoken by Ozma to Dorothy, and with Regina being aware of their differences and of the societal disapproval they will likely face once they are able to be together in the public eye, she is struck once again by its significance.

Every time it is repeated is a declaration of unconditional love that Regina has sadly taken for granted for too long. Hearing them so often had the unintended consequence of dampening their impact until she had lost perspective as to their true significance. Now that she is on the outside looking in, though, she can see it afresh. The impact of them on Dorothy is visible by the way the brunette's face softens and her eyes begin to gleam with a gratitude and adoration that are so earnest as to feel tangible.

 _How could I have let this happen?_ Regina asks herself, swallowing thickly against the emotion clogging her throat. _How could I have let myself grow cold to words with such profound meaning?_ It is unforgivable honestly. The more she became convinced she and Red shared True Love, the more she started to assume Red would always love her because fate had decreed it. Instead, she should have been appreciating the miracle that Red had chosen to love her on a daily basis when she had ever conceivable excuse not to. Like Ozma is doing right now for Dorothy.

Leaning forward a smidgen, Dorothy nibbles at her lip and then crinkles her eyes at the corners. "Even when I burn the toast?"

As Ozma reciprocates Dorothy's approaching proximity, she gives her a smile that plumbs depths of affection that reside far beyond the surface. "Even then," she says, and her own deep well of love for Dorothy causes the unnaturally beautiful woman to appear as if she is glowing. But then just as it appears the two are about to get so lost in one another they have forgotten their guests, Ozma clears her throat and returns her hand to her lap before sheepishly glancing between Regina and Snow. "But before we get carried away, I must digress. Let us eat before our esteemed guests think us to be impolite hosts."

"You have been nothing but courteous and gracious thus far," Regina offers, and is pleased when Ozma accepts the compliment with a tilt of her head and a slight flush to her cheeks.

"I agree," says Snow, whose stomach chooses that exact moment to rumble loudly. She blushes profusely then chuckles at her own embarrassment. "And I may also be starving."

Ozma gestures toward their dishes laying upon the table top with a flourish. "Then by all means, let us eat."

Regina does not immediately indulge herself, choosing instead to wait for Ozma to take the first bite. It is proper etiquette on her part for the head of the household to be afforded that respect. Although she is used to being the one who is deferred to, she finds she doesn't quite mind the reversal of situation at all. If she is to willfully oblige anyone, Ozma is perhaps the most palatable potentate she has yet to encounter.

Once Ozma has begun to eat, delicately and deliberately as would be expected of her high station and unique breeding, Regina does the same. Snow as well takes her food with poise befitting a girl raised from youth to follow proper etiquette at all times. Dorothy, however, consumes her food much like Red – that is, with the bare minimum of restraint. All three royals stare at her as she stuffs a huge forkful of potatoes into her mouth and groans with pleasure. When she catches them all watching her, her eyes widen.

"Wha-? Wha's-a-matter?" she mumbles around her food, her fork still hover between her mouth and the plate.

Regina half expects Ozma to chastise Dorothy for her poor manners, but at the same time, knowing what she knows about their relationship, she is not at all surprised that the fairy queen is oddly fond of her lover's enthusiasm. Regina sympathizes completely and is struck by a sudden sense of kinship with her ethereal host. They have even more in common than she had imagined, for both have chosen to give their hearts to people considered below their station, people whose simplistic outlooks on life and sometimes uncouth behavior might seem obnoxious to those raised in the lap of luxury. To them, such displays have become endearing because love is blind in that way.

"Nothing, my little whirlwind," Ozma says, smiling brightly.

"I'm being a pig again, aren't I?" Dorothy asks after she swallows her food, wincing as she realizes she is sitting at table with three Queens. "I'm famished after yesterday but that's no excuse. I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry, dear," Regina answers in place of Ozma, knowing her reassurance will be more believable. Ozma is certainly accustomed to the relative lack of table manners, so her graceful reaction will have been more expected. Regina's, on the other hand, will be taken more for the truth it is rather than biased indulgence. "I'm used to such gastronomic gusto from my own wife. Eat up. You've earned that right, and I feel confident in asserting that you are among friends who will not judge you."

"Very true," Snow confirms. "I couldn't even if I wanted to after living in the wild with Red for so long. Once I saw her eat half of the meat we collected off of a deer in one sitting. That was after Wolf's Time, of course, so she was ravenous with the need to replenish her energy. I was still shocked. I'd never seen anyone eat so much so fast, especially someone of Red's build. She's tall but very thin."

Regina finishes chewing her bite of eggs, and then replies, "Thankfully her metabolism is as excellent as her ability to fit vast amounts of food in her stomach, or else she would only be one of those."

"Yeah," sighs Dorothy, "I'm pretty much the same. Uncle Henry liked to say I had a bottomless pit in my belly instead of a stomach. Which would explain why I always out-ate the boys I grew up around."

"Don't feel bad about it. Red did, too," Snow says, and then takes a fork full of the cheese-infused potatoes, moaning appreciably at the taste.

Regina cannot help but agree with the assessment as she tries some as well. Ozma really is a fantastic cook. "It's not a bad thing though," she tells Dorothy after swallowing her potatoes and primly placing her fork down on the appropriate side of the plate. "You're going to need your strength if we have to face my sister."

"Before we get into that," Snow speaks up, sounding a bit hesitant, "why don't we just finish eating. I really don't want to ruin our meal, or the good mood, with talk about...about _her_."

Regina nods in agreement. "Agreed. Zelena does have the ability to sour even the strongest stomach." Picking up her fork, Regina heaps up another healthy portion of potatoes upon her fork and then glances at Ozma. "In the interest of changing the subject, my compliments to the cook. These potatoes are most excellent. Perhaps I might bother you for the recipe some time? I'm a hobbyist in the kitchen myself."

"Is that so?" Ozma chirps with delight, and with that they settle into a conversation about their favorite foods, which they prefer to eat, which they enjoy most to prepare, and their thoughts about exotic ingredients they have been dying to experiment with in their recipes.

Breakfast after that settles into a comfortable affair with little silence. As the conversation flows easily, Regina finds herself captivated by Ozma once again. The woman's grasp of disparate subjects is extensive. It is evident by her encyclopedic knowledge that she is an intellectual giant Regina would love to spend more time around. Red says she has an insatiable appetite for learning and that's why she is constantly looking for excuses to speak with experts in the various fields of study she is interested in. She thinks, in that way, she and Ozma are very much alike.

She also savors every interaction she has with Dorothy, and again finds herself comparing the broad-shouldered warrior to Red. Dorothy has a simplicity to her worldview that belies a razor-sharp wit. She is very austere at times and carries a sadness beneath her impenetrable exterior that hints at some grievous wounds in her past. But at the same time also has a unique way of seeing things and understated delivery of amusing anecdotes that buoys the good humor of everyone around her. Regina wonders if Dorothy's uniqueness is due to her origin on this strange world without magic from whence she originated. It is an interesting concept to think about, growing up without the benefit of magic permeating every little nook and cranny of the world. Magic is a way of life to Regina, and she cannot imagine living without it. Yet at the same time, doing just that had forged Dorothy Gale into an endlessly fascinating person whose capacity for kindness was matched only by that of her impressive bravery.

The most surprising part of breakfast is how much Regina enjoys Snow's presence. She can't remember the last time they shared a peaceful meal together. When Leopold was still alive, their interactions were far from cordial, at least they were from Regina's perspective. What they felt more like were dry, boring, mandatory social functions and less like boisterous family gatherings – not that she had any reliable yardstick by which to measure what a homely family meal should feel like. And even though Snow being oblivious to the living hell that was her married life may have meant she enjoyed their private lunches and dinners, to Regina they were nothing but stabbing reminders of what she could never have. When Leopold exited the picture, the paradigm flipped. Regina could finally eat without constantly battling to keep her portions down while Snow was often morose and withdrawn. Between then and Snow's eighteenth birthday, Regina can't recall them ever having shared a pleasant meal, though she's sure it was bound to have happened once or twice.

Now, though, she is operating with a fresh perspective that affords her the opportunity to observe and maybe even appreciate some of Snow's many fine qualities. For instance, while Snow is kind to a fault, she has shown courtesy to their hosts in a way that makes Regina proud to have been the one to train the ten-year-old Snow that there are expectations in polite society even for children. There is also a sharp edge that she keeps carefully sheathed away until times of need, such as when she'd turned the guard in the village between their arrival point and the Emerald City into a pincushion just as he was about to make an attempt on Regina's life. Not only that, Snow has become a diplomat and a true monarch in every sense of the word without losing her core virtues in the process. She is mature, responsible, and well-mannered, but still so very Snow White. Many times during breakfast, Regina questions how it is possible the woman has retained her goodness after becoming a Queen in her own right. But then again, she already knows the answer. It is because Snow is Snow: always optimistic, slow to anger, quick to forgive, with disgustingly good with a moral compass that rarely if ever deviates and a heart so full of love that it spills out onto everyone she comes into contact.

As always, of course, it also seems that Snow can befriend just about anyone who is not allergic to those with perpetually cheery outlooks and endless supplies of hope upon which to draw a smile and a heartfelt greeting. Regina can remember how the people of Misthaven flocked to the young princess who seemed oblivious to an attractive nature that goes so far beyond her prettiness. People have always adored Snow because she innately inspires adoration, and that used to drive Regina absolutely batty. It only after living so long with Red that she finally learned some people are naturally magnetic and therefore able to reel people in with their gargantuan personalities and their inherent goodness.

Their current hosts are a case in point to Snow's charm. While Dorothy and Ozma are certainly respectful and friendly toward Regina, they treat Snow like they have known her for all their lives and have just recently been reunited from a long absence through circumstance. The chattering between the three sometimes leaves Regina feeling strangely left out, though that never lasts because Snow always picks up on the subtle cues indicating she is feeling isolated and soon involves her in the conversation in an organic way that doesn't offend her immense pride.

There was a time Snow was not that perceptive. As a child, she had failed to pick up on her too-young step-mother's crushing sadness, and often exacerbated that bleak existence by apologizing to Regina over Daniel's supposed abandonment. And when Regina was experiencing a flare up of the pervasive anger that was perpetually flowing beneath the shallow surface of her politeness, Snow seemed to make herself as obtrusive as possible. It was hard during those first few years not to gouge the girl's eyes out with a dull, rusty spoon.

But since they have been in Oz, it seems that Snow is always watching her in some way or another. That she has learned to interpret body language signals that tell her what Regina is feeling. That ability has served her well on their unlikely adventure, for Snow has – for the most part – managed to not be completely irritating, infuriating, obnoxious, or ignorant at any given moment. She has pushed Regina at times and occasionally prodded her out of the shell she had erected about herself to hold in her grief over Red, only never to the point that Regina felt under assault or was legitimately tempted to toss fireballs in her direction.

In other words, progress has been made. And that is more than a little disconcerting considering Regina had sworn before they left she could never forget or forgive Snow for her role in Daniel's death and Regina's subsequent wholesale decline.

By the time they finish eating, everyone is in fine spirits. Regina is especially feeling energized and ready to face whatever lies ahead. Whether that involves a deadly confrontation with Zelena or not, she is more than ready to travel to their final destination. The Sacred Grove of Ozma awaits, and the faster she and Snow get there, the faster they will retrieve the necessary ingredients to cure Red. Which means they can go home. And once they are home, she can make the potion to counter Zelena's curse and then administer it to her afflicted wife.

Red being returned to the land of the living is closer than it is has ever been, and Regina is practically vibrating with her eagerness to achieve that ultimate goal. So long as she accomplishes it, everything that has happened will have been worth it.


	28. The Calm Before

**Standard Disclaimer** : These lovely characters ain't mine, I just play with them gently. Please don't sue me. The mistakes are mine, though.

* * *

 **Chapter 2** **7** – The Calm Before

Farmers in Misthaven often say bad weather is only ever a strong gust of wind away. Regina soon discovers that proverb holds true even in Oz. When breakfast has been heartily devoured, the dishes put away, and a half hour or so of amiable conversation shared, Ozma clears her throat as if to usher in a more serious tone. The noise is like a weather vane suddenly gone berserk. Regina swears she can hear the low, tumbling rolls of an ominous thunder in the distance.

 _Shit was about to get real_ , Dorothy had said during one of her funny stories. Never have more accurate words been uttered.

"Now that we have full bellies, I would like to discuss your plans to defeat your sister," Ozma says, dropping the hammer upon the anvil like the deafening clap that precedes a bolt of lightning. "Before Dorothy is to risk her life again, I need to know that you are prepared to protect her. As you know, Zelena is no ordinary witch. How am I to trust you, a relative stranger, can stop her where no one else has?"

"Ozma..."

Regina waves off Dorothy's potential protest over Ozma's sudden curtness. "It's perfectly fine, dear." Those concerns were reasonable, so she has no problem addressing them. To Ozma, she says, "I am sympathetic to your concerns, Your Majesty. Were I in your place, I also would require plenty of assurances before allowing Red to wade into danger with a _relative stranger_." She then takes a breath and proceeds to lay out her case. "It is undeniable that my sister is a formidable foe. I will even admit that under normal circumstances, she is more powerful than I am. These are, however, far from normal circumstances." Regina leans forward, placing her elbows on the table, eyes grave as they bore into Ozma's. "My wife's life depends upon Snow and I obtaining bark from the trees that grow within your grove. So does my own. I have lost one True Love already in my life. I _cannot_ lose another. Make no mistake, I will do whatever I is necessary to achieve that end."

Ozma sighs, and then sits back, crossing her arms of her chest. She looks sympathetic to Regina's cause yet somewhat concerned towards Regina herself. "I believe you," she says. "I have known from the beginning that stopping Zelena would require someone willing to go to lengths I am not. I am a merciful person by nature, but she has proven herself beyond redemption. Though it pains me to say it, there is no prison capable of containing her and no way to permanently bind her magic. Therefore she must be eliminated. You may very well be the only person who is capable of such a deed."

"Ozma! I don't believe what I'm hearing right now," Dorothy exclaims, looking perplexed and hurt. "I've railed against her so many times to you, told you that she needed to be done away with, and every time you insist that neither of us can afford to sink to her level. Now here you are admitting openly that you believe her worthy of death! Why the sudden change of heart?"

Ozma momentarily ducks her head to hide her pained grimace, as if what she is about to say pains her. "I resisted your calls for her head because you believe me to be pure, that I am somehow above reproach, and I am reluctant to to tarnish that image for you even if it is inaccurate. You must remember that while I am half-fairy, I am also half-human. Like you, I am not immune to the enticing overtures of the baser human emotions, though I wish with all my might that I were."

"Then why haven't you taken care of Zelena yourself?" Regina asks, curious to know now that she's been made aware of Ozma's potential for darkness. "From what I have witnessed of your power, you could crush her like a bug."

"I could," Ozma replies, eyes shadowed by emotions so complex they are indefinable. "But as I said, I am half-fairy, and once a fairy gives in to evil, they can never return to the side of good. Were I to destroy Zelena, I would be destroying my goodness along with her. One cannot stain their hands crimson without some of it sinking in. This is why my mother refused to directly participate in the war with the Dark Elves. If I shunned her example, I would begin to change, slowly at first, but more and more with each passing day until I became unrecognizable. Hatred and bitterness would corrupt me from within until I was wholly given over to it. I want to stop Zelena. Truly, I do. But intervening is a risk I cannot afford to take. Oz itself cannot afford it! Were I to succumb to the seductive whims of evil, my reign of terror would outstrip even that of the Wicked Witch's."

"You never told me that," whispers Dorothy, stricken to hear those words escape Ozma's lips, and also guilty for having goaded her into admitting to such a critical vulnerability.

"The expression you are wearing right now is why," says Ozma. "Temptation is a terrible thing, Dorothy, and I know you understand that. I am not ignorant to your fantasy of sneaking into Zelena's chambers and slitting her throat whilst she sleeps. I can see your dreams in mine when we are together. But I have also witnessed the guilt you carry around for days afterward. Now imagine if I had told you that I also was tempted by those same urges, just that for me they are so much more insidious due to what I could become. I thought it too much a burden for you to bear."

"She's right." Having walked more than a mile in Ozma's shoes, Regina immediately comes to her defense. "I make it a habit to not lie to my wife but regardless I keep some secrets from her relating to my...less than savory thoughts. I do so because want to protect her. I also don't want her to worry about me, which she would to the point of being ridiculous. She is too selfless and loyal and would take responsibility for my weaknesses. That is not what I want for her. I know she would say she signed on for such burdens when she repeated her vows, but I said some vows of my own. As her wife, it is my solemn duty to shield her from all harm, especially when it is me who poses the threat. That is an obligation I intend to honor until my dying breath."

"Well said," agrees Ozma, who then reaches over to pat Dorothy's hand. Dorothy turns her appendage palm up to grip Ozma's tightly, a tentative smile reaching her lips. She then returns her gaze to Regina, wearing the same apprehensive look she'd been giving Dorothy moments ago. "Our agreement on that matter aside, I have to voice my concerns as to the lengths to which you may have to resort, Queen Regina."

"You shouldn't be," Regina says, trying to reassure Ozma. "If anyone is going to end my sister's perverse reign, it should be me. She is my familial responsibility. Besides, I have a long history of staining my hands. Adding another coat won't bother me nearly as much as it would anyone else here."

"I am well aware of your proclivity for villainy," Ozma replies. "I sensed it in your magic the moment you arrived. It is what brought me to the door in the first place chasing after Toto. I couldn't let him fall prey to what I assumed to be an imminent threat. Only my concern for Dorothy prevented me from immediately expelling you from this sanctuary. And yet from what time I have spent with you, I have learned that my initial assessment was incomplete. Although there is an incomprehensible possibility for evil in you, there is an equal potential for good. I would hate to see you squander the latter to destroy Zelena, necessary though such an action may be."

Regina notices that Snow lights up at Ozma's assertion that there is good in her. Not long ago, she would have laughed the notion to scorn, having believed that Red was the only good thing about her. But Red's stubborn persistence to the contrary has so weakened her resolve on the matter that she has recently come to accept there is a part of her that still resembles the girl Daniel fell in love with. It is a small part, to be sure, but it is there, and its existence has only been confirmed by the vastly improved state of her heart. Were she not changing, were there not good in her rather than simply around her, her heart would have remained black as coal instead of sporting nearly as much crimson.

To save Red, however, she may be required to surrender some of those bright spots back to the darkness. Being good for the sake of being good is not her goal here, nor will it ever be when the situation is so dire. If Red dies, there will be no one remaining she would consider worth being good for.

"I assure you, it is absolutely necessary," she tells Ozma a moment later. "As you say, there may be good in me, but much of that goodness has only resurfaced thanks to Red. She made me want to be a better version of myself. The best version that I can be considering all I have done in the past. But without her...without her, I will mostly assuredly slip back into dirty old habits. And more besides..."

She sighs, feeling raw at exposing so much of herself to people she has minimal reason to trust. Only she does trust them, at least enough to somehow know that they will not judge her for who she used to be. Snow never has and doesn't seem inclined to ever do so, which is amazing since she was the primary victim of the Evil Queen. And yet just like her ten-year-old self, Snow seems stubbornly determined to be her friend in spite of the vast, turbulent oceans of hurt between them.

Meanwhile, Dorothy and Ozma have struggles of their own with the darkness that lend them a sympathetic insight into her motive for playing fast and loose with her recently redeveloped sense of morality. There is no room for condemnation when an inclination is shared between a group of individuals. Both of the Ozians have admitted to wanting Zelena dead, so how could either cast stones in her direction? To bare herself to people who understand what it's like having that hideous compulsion – even though her new friends are far more practiced at resisting it – is almost liberating.

"The person I became after..." Trailing off for a heartbeat, she glances at Snow, seeing the woman preemptively wince at mention of an event both would rather forget but cannot. "After the death of my first love, I became someone else: a vengeful, arrogant, hateful, vile fiend who will never be fully eradicated. I am still her to some degree, having been forever contaminated by the evil I have perpetrated." But then she thinks of her wife, and her eyes begin to glisten. "Red gives me hope, though, that one day my past will not cast such a prominent shadow over my present. Believe me when I say it is not only for my sake that I will do what I must to save her, but for the entire world from which Snow and I hail. I was a monster before, but deprived of Red, I worry that I will become someone even that malicious woman would tremble before."

Ozma studies Regina, awareness in her eyes as if she recognizes the truthfulness of that statement. If the woman is as sensitive to light and darkness as she says she is, Regina knows she does, and all too well.

"What, then, will you do should Zelena resist you?" the fairy Queen then replies. "I know you've expressed it once already, but I need to hear it again if I am to trust you with what is most precious to me in this world."

Regina nods in understanding. "Sister or not, I will show her no mercy. As you said, she cannot be made a prisoner. She will keep coming back until she is dealt with permanently. So...if she does show up, rest assured that only one of us will come down from that mountain alive. Either she will kill me or I will kill her. Is that clear enough for you?"

"Regina..." Snow begins, but Regina silences her with a terse glare.

"Zelena cannot be permitted to live under any circumstances, Snow," Regina says. "Even if I save Red without having to face her, she will not stop coming back until she gets what she wants, which is Red in the grave and me on my knees before her, a broken shell of a woman. After she has killed me, which she almost certainly will in that case, she will conquer our world, laying waste to all who oppose her before returning to Oz to continue her reign unopposed. I cannot and will not allow that. As the only person with both the power and the will to stop her, and as her only living relative, it is my responsibility to put an end to her madness once and for all."

"If she is as powerful as you state," Snow counters, "how do you plan on doing that?"

Regina gives a longsuffering sigh. "Again, as I said, these are not normal circumstances. When I confronted her in my palace, my magic was able to matched hers. Something happened to me, some force welled up from deep inside me as I thought of my wife laying at my side, cursed to suffer untold agonies for the unpardonable sin of loving me. A righteous vengeance like I've never experienced fueled me to reach levels of power I have never dreamed of reaching before. I can't explain it, but I know that should the need arise, I can tap into that force again."

When Ozma smiles mysteriously at Regina's description of events, Regina narrows her eyes at the fairy. "You know what happened to me, don't you?"

"I do," Ozma confirms. "May I ask if the color of your magic changed?"

Regina sits back, stunned. She had told no one of that little fact. "Yes, it did. Normally my magic is a deep, lush violet, but that day it turned almost lavender in color. It even started to glow white at the edges at one point. What does that mean?"

"It means you can do something I once considered nigh on impossible," replies Ozma. "You accessed your dark magic _and_ white magic at the same time, a feat I have never heard tale of before. Knowing this alleviates much of my concern over your chances. You may be the bane of the Wicked Witch after all." Pausing, she then nods fervently. "Alright, then. You officially have my permission to take Dorothy with you."

Dorothy scoffs at that, appearing incredibly put out. "Wow, sweetheart. Thank you. I mean that. It feels so great to be treated like I'm personal property that needs your permission to do whatever the hell I want."

Ozma frowns at the misinterpretation. "Don't be cross, my little whirlwind. You know that is not what I meant."

"Then say what you mean, Ozma," Dorothy grits out, hand clenched into a fist upon the table. "Because that's sure how it sounded."

Ozma has the grace to flush with chagrin, biting her lip before turning apologetic eyes to her offended paramour. "I am sorry, darling, please accept my sincerest apology. You are, of course, free to choose your own destiny. I only meant that you have my support in your _freely made_ decision to accompany our new friends on the final portion of their journey."

Dorothy gives a prolonged sigh before her features settle into something more neutral. "Nice save," she drawls, and then her lips then turn up in a sly grin. "In that case, I accept. But only on the condition that you give me a proper goodbye kiss before I leave. None of that lackluster cheek pecking you got away with last time."

Ozma smiles her joyful acceptance. "That is a condition I am most willing to agree upon." And then she leans in to place a chaste but affectionate kiss upon Dorothy's lips. Dorothy hums into the contact, and when they part both women are beaming at one another.

"You should come with us, Your Majesty," Regina says after enduring the very public display of affection without complaint. Changing the subject by engaging Ozma directly is her way of redirecting the conversation back to the task at hand without being rude. "Your assistance would be most helpful, even if merely in a supporting role."

Ozma ducks her head sadly before shaking it. "Sadly, I cannot even if I were willing. Which I am not for the reasons I outlined earlier. Beyond that, I am also bound to this place by magic of my own design. It was the only way to keep Zelena ignorant of my continued existence."

"Wait a second," Snow interjects, "Zelena thinks you're dead?"

"She does," Dorothy confirms, answering for Ozma who nods at her encouragingly. "There is a flame that burns in the heart of the palace which is linked to the life force of the true ruler of Oz. It is so ancient and primordial that it cannot be extinguished. The spell Ozma cast to establish this sanctuary severed around fives acres of the area from Oz, which tricked the magicks that keep the flame burning to cut out. Through some subterfuge of our own," she winks at Snow, who grins, "we planted false information that Ozma fled to Ev through the Deadly Desert and perished in the attempt. We even had the royal family of Ev confirm the death."

"Incidentally," Ozma adds, "I believe that is why Zelena ultimately attacked Ev. Their involvement implicated them as willing to grant me asylum, something she could not abide. Her invasion attempts thus served two purposes: one, to retaliate for trying to help me, and secondly to confirm that I am, indeed, deceased. She failed in both cases but seems content to accept that there is no contest to her rule."

Regina huffs in agreement. "She has knack for self-delusion. She has convinced herself that I stole everything that belonged to her because our mother gave her away at birth but decided to keep me. It's her entire reason for doing all of this. Zelena wants to take my crown, murder my wife, and then utterly destroy me all because she wasn't affording the privilege of being raised by a nasty bitch whose death I should not have even mourned. Knowing that, my guess is that my sister won't be satisfied until she's stamped me out of existence entirely."

"That's terrible," comments Dorothy. "And kind of insane."

Regina agrees, and tell Dorothy so. "Seeing that she is legitimately crazy, her deranged plans are not all that elaborate. To be honest, I'm just glad she's being direct instead of hiding her intentions behind convoluted schemes. It's a refreshing change of pace to know what my enemy is after beforehand."

"Which may work to your favor," says Ozma, thoughtfully tapping her chin. "You know what motivates her, so you know how to manipulate her into a fatal mistake. It's a gambit, to be sure, but perhaps the opportunity may present itself for you to do just that. In my experience, those who are prone to rages are easily distracted or provoked into doing what you want them to do."

"A fair point," replies Regina, "and one I have already considered. I know exactly how to goad her into opening herself up. Unfortunately, she knows how to do the same to me."

"But you have one thing going for you she doesn't," Snow points out, that insufferably hopeful expression on her face. "You have love on your side, so when you're facing her, think about how much you love Red instead of how angry you are that she got hurt. Let that be your source of strength instead of hate."

"Hear hear, Queen Snow," says Ozma without taking her eyes off of Regina. "Love is an advantage if you allowed it to be. But I think you already know that, don't you?" Regina nods, and draws a shaky breath. "Then there is nothing more that can be said besides this: you have my confidence and my faith. I believe that you can defeat Zelena. You simply need to believe it yourself."

"Easier said than done," Regina says, rubbing her temples against the stirring of a headache.

She understands Ozma's encouragements are being offered from the right place, but in the end, the victor of her duel with her sister will be decided in the heat of the moment where emotions are nearly impossible to control. All the preparation in the world cannot adequately equip her to handle the swirling array of emotions that will be warring for dominance, from hatred and the burning need to lash out with unrestrained violence to their diametric opposites of unconditional love for Red and righteous fury over her degenerative condition. All she can do, then, is to go forward, to face her sister as she had back in the Dark Palace with no thought for herself, focusing on Red and their future together she simply refuses to allow anyone to steal away from her.

"Just the same," says Ozma, "I believe in you."

"So do I," adds Dorothy, a touching amount of affection in her eyes.

"I think you know that I do, too," Snow says as well, with a smile so warm that it could melt the polar ice caps. "I never stopped and I never will."

Regina is too choked up to answer their unexpected declarations. She in unused to such a universal show of support, especially when it originates from three people who are, relative to her, true embodiments of heroism. Swallowing heavily, she bites her lip then offers them all a grateful nod. A second later when Snow reaches out for her hand, Regina surprises herself by taking it, slipping their fingers together, and squeezing hard to draw strength and confidence from a woman who has every right to hate her but does not.

In that moment, it hits Regina like a sledgehammer that she does not just have Red's love upon which to stand, but the love of the three women occupying the table with her. Her fellow royals plus one noble warrior. Her co-conspirators. Her compatriots. Her friends.

A minute passes in which Regina merely sits motionless, clutching Snow's hand as she soaks up the positive energy and heartfelt adoration being sent her way. Soon enough, it starts to get uncomfortable, so she ducks her head to avoid their gazes. Again, Snow proves her disquieting ability to read Regina's cues.

"So, Ozma," the bandit Queen then says, though she does not release Regina's hand until Regina pulls it away. "Tell us a little bit the grove we came here to find." Regina looks up to find Snow's full attention on Ozma. "We know that it is named after you, so I assume that means you planted it."

"You would be correct in that assumption," confirms Ozma matter-of-factly.

"May I ask why?"

"My father always told me that my mother loved nature far more than she ever loved him," the fairy queen answers, "and that is not a disparagement so much as simple statement of fact. In every kingdom she visited, she planted groves of trees, grew them with her power and imbued them with special properties. I wanted to do something to honor her, but didn't know what until I stumbled upon that area.

"I was exploring the mountain on a whim – this was before I was captured by Mombi, of course, so I was very young, but my magic protected me from the elements and I had long since mastered the arts of teleportation. Anyway," she gestures with her hands after the aside, "the place was remote and not easily accessed, so I made a deal with the dwarves who inhabit the mountains. In exchange for carving out a pass from the base of the mountain and constructing a gate to protect my new sanctuary, I offered their leadership a position in my council upon my future coronation. To sweeten the pot, I also enchanted their mining picks to never dull and to possess the capability to break through even the hardest of stones. They agreed, of course, because my deal was exceedingly generous, and after I proved my trustworthiness by enchanting their picks to never dull as an earnest on my part, they then honored theirs as well."

"That's quite a story," says Snow, "but I'm particularly interested in why you chose to grow trees there with such...odd properties." Regina glances over at Snow with an appreciative gaze. She has asked the very question at the tip of Regina's tongue.

"Well," drawls Ozma, "that is a bit more complicated."

"Then tell them the abridged version, honey," Dorothy instructs with fondness. It is evident to Regina that although she appreciates Ozma's attention to detail, she is nonetheless cognizant of Regina's growing antsiness.

Ozma looks disappointed for just the slightest moment, but recovers quickly enough that Regina barely notices it. "To be more concise," she says, "I was very young, as I said, and did not have much practice enchanting apple trees, so I may have done so with the goal of preventing them from ever decaying or being affected by magic. The results sort of happened all on their own."

"Wait a second," Regina interjects, sitting forward as she latches onto a particular bit of information. "Did you say they were apple trees? And if so, what color are the fruit they bear?"

"They are," nods Ozma, her brows furrowed. "The trees within the grove produce green apples. Why? Is there something wrong with that?"

"Not at all," replies Regina. "I happen to love apples myself. It's just that Red was cursed by a _green apple_. No doubt it was from your tree." When Ozma blanches, Regina becomes afraid the implications are far worse than she had originally thought. "Oh, gods! Please do _not_ tell me that means the antidote will not work."

Ozma frowns as she briefly considers the possibility "Good heavens, no," she then firmly replies after a moment. "It is the trees themselves that are imbued with the magic. The fruit they bear is merely fruit."

Regina does not understand the logic at all. "In that case, why grow green apples there?"

In response, Ozma shrugs in the way a little girl might when asked why she likes chocolate instead of vanilla ice cream. "No reason whatsoever. I just really like green apples."

The entire situation strikes Regina as so ridiculous that she begins to laugh, softly at first, but soon enough she is cackling hysterically for absolutely no good reason other the absurd coincidence of it all. First, Red was stricken by a special curse augmented by the leaves of a special tree in a special Grove, and then said curse was applied to a green apple that grew from those very same trees in that very same Grove. And it just so happened that Grove belonged to the woman who is the lover of the woman Regina and Snow saved while on their journey to rescue Red from her curse. It is as if the universe itself has decreed that this mess of webbed tragedies was constructed by the design of some higher power, beginning with Dorothy being captured and then Red being cursed, simply to bring them all together. On top of it all, Regina cannot fathom for the life of her why she was the one chosen to be here rather than her wife, who surely would have better represented their world to Ozma and Dorothy. As a whole, the situation is simply horrific, but in an inappropriately hilarious way.

"I'm sorry," she says after a minute of laughing until tears are streaming down her face. "It's just all so damn bizarre."

At that, Ozma gives a wry grin. "I have to admit, the confluence of events is strange to the point of absurdity."

"Exactly," Regina agrees, mirth still escaping in soft chuckles. She takes a breath to calm herself and straightens her back, her irrational bout of humor fading away as quickly as it came. "As ridiculous as all of this is," she then says, directing her words at both Dorothy and Ozma, "I'm glad to have met the both of you. Truly."

The women beam at her warmly, and it is Dorothy who answers for them both. "We're glad, too, Regina."

After giving them a grateful smile, Regina turns to Snow and takes a preparatory breath, hardly able to fathom what is about to come out of her mouth. But she is surrounded by people who are on her side, having proven their sincere friendship by both word and deed, and she feels so abnormally good about herself and the success of her mission that she cannot contain herself.

"I can't believe I'm about to say this," she then tells Snow, "but...I am also glad to have gotten the opportunity to know you again. The real you, that is, not the inaccurate version I always made you out to be in my mind so I wouldn't feel like such a monster for what I'd done to you. And while my earlier words are certainly true in that I will never be the woman that I once was, and that forgiveness is something that I might never be able to give or receive, I want to move past all of the hurt that is between us."

Snow's eyes glisten with unshed tears. "Oh, Regina," she whispers, "that's all I've ever wanted from you. I know we can't be a family in the way I wanted us to be, and I know it is going to take time for you to accept me back into your life after what I did, but I hope that some day we can be friends."

"For what it's worth," Regina then says, strangely undisturbed by her admissions, "I think that may just be possible. After all, I couldn't have done this without you."

The grin Snow gives her then is one bright enough to light up the darkest corners of the most hate-filled heart. Under its intensity, Regina feels some of that old grudge begin to melt away, and while the glacier of complication that was her feelings for Snow will take a lot more time to thaw than a day, progress was being made. Real progress at that, of the kind that would make Red proud.

Since the moment they became a couple, Red has silently suffered due to the estrangement between two of the three people she loves most in the world. It has always been her unspoken hope to provide a bridge that brings Regina and Snow back together. And although she had not been deliberate in the action that has finally accomplished the first steps of that purpose, it is Red that occupies the center space between the two former foes. As much as Regina loves her wife, she knows that Snow loves her best friend, and it is that common ground between them that has allowed them to set aside their crimes against one another in order to work together.

It will mean so much to Red to discover that her wish is beginning to come true. Regina just hopes she lives long enough to bring them to proper fruition.

An hour later, Regina is standing in the same spot in front of the cabin upon which she had arrived with Dorothy and Snow. She feels a keen sadness inside at having to leave so soon. It may be small and quaint, but the homely warmth she has found here makes it seems larger than the spectacular palace of Oz. She will miss it when she has to leave for good, even if just a little.

Feeling wistful all of the sudden, she looks toward the door when it opens, and watches Dorothy, Ozma, and Snow filter out one by one. Their faces are relaxed as they chatter amiably, but there is a tense glint to their eyes that speaks of how difficult this parting will be.

"We're ready," Snow says upon reaching Regina's side.

Regina nods and glances at Dorothy, who is gazing at Ozma with tenderness that causes a lump to form in her throat. Ozma meets Dorothy's eyes, her own filled with unshed tears, sorrow and love alike warring in them.

"Please don't take any unnecessary risks," Ozma then says, reaching out to cup her partner's face. Dorothy instinctively leans into the tender caress. "The year I spent worrying over your fate was worse than I could ever describe. I cannot bear it if something worse were to befall you."

"Don't be such a worry wort," Dorothy replies, her reassuring tone meant to diffuse the tension of the atmosphere. "I'll come home just like I always do. And remember, I won't be alone this time. I have friends who will be with me, and we are all fighting for love. That makes us stronger than the Witch can ever hope to be."

"And yet I still insist that you use wisdom. I need you to come home to me." Ozma then leans in for one last, lingering kiss. When they part, she gives Regina a pleading look. "As one Queen to another, will you promise to take care of her?"

Regina inclines her head with a respectful promise. "I will. You have my word."

"Very well," sighs Ozma, and then playfully pushes Dorothy toward Regina and Snow. "You had best be off directly. It is still early, and by now Zelena will be sure to know that she has been mislead. It won't take her long to figure out the deception. Make haste and go with my blessings."

"If all goes to plan, will we return shortly," Regina then says, but before Ozma can back away, she removes the pouch from around her shoulder and then offers it to Ozma. "For safekeeping," she says.

"May I ask what is in it?" Ozma asks with a raised brow.

"Our collateral to get back home," Regina replies, not certain that Ozma will be comfortable with learning what's inside .

As if Ozma can read her mind, she nods like that is explanation enough and then accepts the pouch. After carefully slipping the strap over her own shoulder, she takes a few steps back, and then says, "I shall look after it while you are gone. Safe travels. And best of luck."

"Thank you. I'll need it," Regina says, and then turns to Dorothy. "Do you remember what to do?" Dorothy confirms that she does then slips her eyes shut without needing to be instructed. Once Dorothy seems sufficiently prepared, Regina places her hands upon the brunette's temples and then summons her magic.

Just as before, she immediately sees an image in Dorothy's mind, only this time it is of the gate separating Ozma's grove from the rest of the world. A moment later, Snow's arms wrap about her waist. With all three in contact, Regina silently casts the spell. As quickly as they had arrived at Ozma's cabin, they are gone in a puff of purple smoke, and as they are swept away by the miraculous and mysterious nature of magic, she can only hope to return.

If they make it back, that will mean they have been successful. It will mean that soon enough, Red will be cured. And that is what she wants more than anything else in the whole wide world.


	29. The Sacred Grove of Ozma

**Standard Disclaimer** : These lovely characters ain't mine, I just play with them gently. Please don't sue me. The mistakes are mine, though.

* * *

 **Chapter 28** – The Sacred Grove of Ozma

A light snow is sprinkling upon the mountain when Regina and her companions appear at the Jade Gate. The air has a bitter, sawtooth bite that lances through her clothing every time a gust of wind passes through the clearing. And although the sight of the snow falling upon the walls before them and the sheer cliffs that surround them is awe inspiring, she has no time to savor it. The second the spell dissipates, Dorothy pales and sways in place.

Regina swears at herself as she rushes to help Snow keep Dorothy upright. She had neglected to account for their friend's recent injury. It was an oversight that came all too easily considering the third party member was strapping young woman who looked fully recovered. Of all people, Regina ought to know that appearances are deceiving, especially where it concerns headstrong individuals who cannot abide being bedridden for any amount of time. Red is one such individuals, as is Dorothy it seems. Yet another commonality between them, and not a good one if anyone should care to consult Regina about it.

"Are you alright?" she asks after a moment after Dorothy's eyes have stopped swimming and she has stopped tottering around like a drunken sailor.

Dorothy rubs her forehead, appearing to be fighting a headache, which is not an uncommon side-effect for those not accustomed to traveling magically. Perhaps her spell was not injury related after all. Or perhaps it is a combination of factors...

"I'm fine," Dorothy replies, still holding tight to Regina's forearm. "I just – I suddenly got really dizzy."

"That happens to some people," Regina tells her, recalling a conversation along similar lines not that long ago. "Not everyone handles their physical matter being transported the same way, and the further the distance, the more pronounced the effect."

"Good thing we didn't try this from the Emerald City then," Snow states wryly, and Dorothy groans at the thought of how sick that would have made her.

"Indeed," confirms Regina, allowing a hint of humor. "It is also a good thing she was half-conscious when we transported to the cabin. I'm afraid our resilient new friend here was going to pass out whether she was injured or not."

Dorothy's eyes narrow at that, and Regina's grin widens. "Are you mocking me?" the brunette asks, echoing the humor of the situation.

Regina chuckles wryly. "Wouldn't dream of it, dear." Sadly her good humor does not last.

Nearby, looming large and foreboding, stands the only barrier keeping her from obtaining that for which she had journeyed to Oz. Salvation for Red lies just inside the gilded gate, growing upon the very trees from which Zelena had concocted her nefarious curse. Regina is so close to her goal that if it weren't for the protective wards barring entry to those of her moral ambiguity, she was literally a matter of yards away. As a result of that tantalizing proximity, all else falls by the wayside.

Eager to make haste, she shoulders her way between her two companions and steps toward the gates. Dorothy's memory of them was adequate but had not done their magnificence justice. The walls to either side of the gate tower thirty feet in the air, spanning a length of perhaps twice that between the horseshoe shaped scaling cliffs the Grove has been carved into. Two great spires flank the gates themselves, constructed as if the emerald horns of a unicorn that shoot up into the sky another twenty feet beyond the walls, and when the sun hits them, they glimmer iridescently from top to bottom.

Up close, the surface of the gate itself sparkles in the sunlight. Upon studying it more closely, she can see that millions of tiny green specks dot the otherwise smoothly polished bronze metal composing the gates, embedded by magic and radiating both energy and incandescent beams of light. A seal adorns the center of the gates, split down the middle between the two sides, and which depicts the same design Ozma had worn upon her brow and which had decorated the sigil Dorothy used to open the recessed access to the shaft leading into the siege tunnels.

In all, the entire structure imposing but beautiful, and in the design Regina can recognize fingerprints belonging to both the exceedingly proud and lavish dwarves whose craftiness engineered the structure and the otherworldly fairy Queen Ozma who commissioned the construction. Like the siege tunnels built beneath the Emerald City, the gates and the striking gray granite wall that comprise the structure are a feat of engineering that leaves her breathless.

"These walls are beautiful and awe inspiring at first," Dorothy comments upon seeing Regina's wonderment. "But after months of guarding them, they start to look like any other fortification."

"I never asked, but why were you posted here?" Regina asks without looking at Dorothy. She continues to gaze at the gates, whose surface is so highly polished that her image is reflected back to her in perfect detail. "It seems a waste for a warrior such as yourself to be stationed in so remote an area."

"There is a good reason," Dorothy says, and Regina meets her eyes within the bronze glass of the gates. "My friends, the munchkins, caught wind of a plot to desecrate the Grove. When I investigated their report on my own, I discovered that Zelena had her sights set on obtaining a leaf from the trees that grow within. I was not aware at the time what she wanted it for, but now that I am, I wish I could have done more to prevent her from taking it."

Regina turns to look at Dorothy, bothered by the regret in her voice. "As I said earlier, there is little you could have done," she tells the brunette in gingham. "Zelena is not a foe that can be defeated by sword or arrow. Sadly her magic nullifies your bravery. But even if there was something else you could have done, now is not the time to entertain regrets. We have other business to attend to at present."

"Agreed," returns Dorothy, her voice gaining resolve. "So, now that we're here, what's our next move?"

Regina backs away from the gates a few steps and then gestures for Snow to join them. "Snow, here, will open the gates and go in to retrieve the bark," she says as the aforementioned steps up next to her other side. Then, to Dorothy, she adds, "While she does that, you and I will stand guard. I don't expect my sister to show up, but we can't be too careful."

Snow makes a whiny noise of disapproval. "Why can't I stand guard with you now that we have Dorothy here to open the gates?"

Dorothy winces subtly enough that Regina would have missed it had she not been hyper aware of her surroundings, including the two women who had accompanied her to the gates. As it is, she notices the strange reaction and raises a sable brow in Dorothy's direction because she knows what it means.

"I'm not opposed to that change in plan," she says, watching Dorothy carefully. "But it appears Ms. Gale is. Whatever is the matter, dear?"

"I can't open the gate," she confesses, voice smaller than Regina has ever heard it.

"Why not?" Snow asks, mystified. "The pure of heart are supposed to be able to open the gates, or at least, that is what we were told."

"And that is true," Dorothy says, a pained expression on her face. "I, however, am no longer pure of heart."

Although Regina is not taken aback by the admission, Snow splutters and stares as if unable to comprehend what she has just been told. When she catches Dorothy frowning at the way she is staring, she blushes slightly.

"I'm sorry for staring," she offers in apology, "but I must say that I am stunned to hear you say that."

"As was Ozma," Dorothy sighs.

Regina's curiosity takes over, superseding her tact. "May I ask how you darkened your heart?"

Dorothy nods, if a bit reluctantly. "It happened while I was back in Kansas. After my trip to Oz, people were not very accepting of either my version of events or of my...inclinations." Her brows furrow at the mention of this persecution. "My aunt and uncle tried to protect me as best they could, but they are simple farm folk, and our more affluent neighbors complained to the local sheriff. They said I was crazy and that I was corrupting their children. Which is ridiculous since none of them would let me near their kids."

A deep breath follow, and Dorothy looks stricken by what she is about to say next. "About six months after I returned home from Oz," she continues, "some men in white uniforms came and took me by force from my Aunty Em and Uncle Henry. I was just a girl at the time, barely thirteen years old, but I can remember how scared I was, how I struggled and screamed and cried for help as I was dragged away. But there was nothing my family could do. Against my will, I was thrown into an asylum – that's a place in my world for crazy people. They called my admission a treatment program for mental rehabilitation, but really it was just an excuse for the doctors to inundate me with drugs and shock my brains over and over with electricity in an attempt to correct me of _ailments_ that are not ailments at all. I was there over a year before my family convinced a judge to let me out."

Regina winces at the mention of a girl of such tender age being hauled off to gods knows where simply because she is different. Such an instance of injustice is a travesty, but sadly not at all unheard of even in the Enchanted Forest. Regina knows of a number of girls and boys who have been punished severely or even banished for being caught cavorting with members of their own sex. What is even more deplorable is that there are even villages that burn such people at the stake.

It shames her that she was once a person who believed such individuals to be aberrant deviants who were merely getting their just rewards. To be fair, she had never considered bedding a woman until her taste for men was somewhat ruined by Leopold. She had also been raised to practice intolerance by her mother, who loathed homosexuals for a reason she was never made privy to.

She can remember a time when her own handmaid, a pretty and sweet young lady named Joan, was caught in an intimate embrace with her best friend, Mary, another of Regina's favorite maids. To say Cora had overreacted was an understatement. After having all of the household servants summoned to the courtyard, Mary was bound to a fence post and stripped down to the waist. Joan was then forced to scourge her lover until the girl's back was in tatters and she had long since passed out. Although Regina disagreed with such a lifestyle at the time, she was horrified by her mother's barbaric lesson. Just not enough to lodge even the tiniest form of protest.

" _Let this be a lesson to you all_ ," Regina's mother had then declared, eyes never leaving Regina's as two burly men dragged the bloody and unconscious Mary away while Joan was left to sob in the mud. " _There is no quarter in this house for such perversion. Further indiscretions will be similarly dealt with_."

Regina had understood the inference, that it was a warning more for her than for the servants, who were already terrified of their mistress. Why her mother had felt the need to do so was a mystery to her until the first time she kissed another woman not long after Leopold's death. After suffering so long under Leopold's hand, she hadn't been able to stomach the though of sex with another man, so she'd turned to one of her few friends – if she could even be called that – among the female nobility. While she enjoyed the affair for what it was and even came to understand she was attracted to both sexes, she also recognized that taking a woman as a lover was a subconscious rebellion against her mother. She'd slept with her fair share of women since but she kept them all at arm's length so that none of them ever managed to sneak in past the carefully constructed defenses erected around her heart. Until Red, that is.

It was Red that made her realize her attraction to women was not merely carnal. Red's beauty was undeniable even from the start, but there had been something else about those big, innocent green eyes that captivated her. Like a witless moth, she was enticed ever closer until she was caught up in a web of passion, besieged by tender touches and heartfelt kisses that captivated her. Making love with Red wasn't like it had been with all of those other women. It was consuming, yes, and intense, and orgasmic in ways that often left Regina with stars in her eyes and a general inability to control her limbs. What differentiated their couplings was that the experience was more than their bodies craving that intimate connection. With each encounter, they were forging an indissoluble bond between their hearts and souls.

After seven years of being with Red, Regina cannot imagine being thrown into such a horrific sounding place simply for being in love with someone who just so happened to be of the same sex. She pities Dorothy, and is even more angry on her behalf.

Dorothy bites her lip so hard that Regina is afraid she might draw blood, and when she begins to speak again, there are tears in her eyes of bitterness and rage and hatred that Regina is all too familiar with. It is a look she saw many times in her own visage upon peering into her magic mirror. Her heart aches for her new friend.

"That place was a nightmare," Dorothy then says, and Regina can tell just how bad it really was for Dorothy by the tone of her voice, which trembles slightly under the weight of awful memories. "For the first three months, I was too drugged up during the day to know what was going on, but I cried myself to sleep every night when they wore off. When the doctors decided the drugs and daily therapy weren't working, they started the electroshock treatments. Those almost broke me. It was there that I learned how to conquer my fears, how to be brave and never show my pain. It was also the place where I learned how to hate. I'm afraid the darkness that entered my heart there will never depart."

"It won't," Regina tells her bluntly, wishing she could say something to diffuse Dorothy's turmoil. But Regina has never been one to mince words, and she also feels that Dorothy is the kind of woman who appreciates honesty however difficult the truth is to swallow. "I have much experience with the subject. Hatred was once my dearest friend, and it was thoughts of revenge that kept me warm at night."

She feels Snow shrivel up as she speaks, so she glances at the woman she had once held responsible for those feelings taking root in her heart. Rather than rub it in as she might have before she learned how to love again, she shoots a small yet meaningful smile to Snow intended to reassure her that she doesn't blame her anymore. Snow returns the smile, but does not add any opinions of her own. With age, she thinks, Snow has not only become more trustworthy but, and perhaps most importantly, much wiser.

Regina then returns her attention to Dorothy. "I've since learned that there is more to life than the darkness. But sadly once it enters your heart, it can never be totally driven out. It may fade with time and much patient love, but it will always stain you."

"I figured as much," replies Dorothy, her tone telling Regina that she had already come to that conclusion herself and was simply having it confirmed by an outside source. "Thankfully, I have Ozma to brighten my days and anchor my dreams at night. She's been a balm to me, to my troubles, ever since I came back to Oz."

Regina understands exactly how Dorothy feels. "As Red is for me, which is why I'm here. And on that note -"

Pausing, she turns to focus on Snow once more. With how disturbed she appears over what has been said, Regina is again surprised the perpetually hopeful brat hadn't spouted out some nonsense about the ability of love to heal the heart and purge all darkness from it. But perhaps what has happened to Red along with their little adventure has taught Snow a valuable lesson about life that she has needed to learn for a very long time. Namely that the struggle with darkness never ends once that insidious force gets a foothold in the door.

The concept that evil cannot be eradicated from a heart once it has succumbed to temptation is nigh on impossible to grasp for a woman who has maintained her innocence through tragedies that would have driven lesser individuals either mad with grief or insane with hatred. As a person who has been on both ends of that particular spectrum, Regina cannot put herself in Snow's place. She doesn't know what it's like for so pure a person to hear such brutally realistic outlooks on life. All she knows is that it is dangerous to live as naively as Snow once did. That brand of blind optimism was what got people trampled upon or destroyed by the cruel realities of living in an unforgiving world. It was what allowed her to lie to Snow for over eight years and then drive her out of her own home, paint her as a villain when she had been innocent save for her naivete, and then hunt her down like she was a common criminal.

But it seems like Snow is finally growing up, and it is high past time in Regina's opinion.

"Well, my dear," she says to Snow, who perks up at being addressed. "It looks like you're up."

Rather than approach the gate, Snow looks at Dorothy uncertainly. "What am I supposed to do?"

Dorothy points toward the seal in the center of the gates. "Merely touch the seal. If you are, indeed, pure of heart, the gates will open to you. If not, you will be rejected."

That information causes Snow to gasp. She clutches at her chest nervously. "What do you mean by 'rejected'?"

"You will be incapacitated," Dorothy elaborates. She looks concerned at Snow's behavior, and Regina shares that worry. She moves to stand to Dorothy's left so that they are both looking at Snow, who is growing more anxious by the second. "Are you afraid that you will fail the test?" Dorothy then asks.

Snow bites her lip diffidently, and turns big eyes up to them. There is very little confidence in those green irises, and that raises doubt in Regina as to Snow's ability to actually do what she is here to do.

"How can I not be?" Snow replies rhetorically. "My best friend's life is on the line, and I...I did things as a bandit that I'm not proud of. I stole things from people, and even killed a few of Regina's soldiers. What if those misdeeds blackened my heart? What if I'm not worthy anymore and _that_ is what winds up costing Red her life?! I don't think I could bear being the cause of my best friend's death."

Her focus turns to Regina then, and the sheer volume of despair radiating from her body is enough to set Regina's heart to racing. The possibility they could fail after coming so far to something she had taken for granted as a given makes her weak in the knees. But rather than panic, she steels herself and takes solace in what she knows to be true with every fiber of her being. The heart of this tiny woman before her is pure as her namesake, for were it not, she would not be looking at Regina the way she is now, completely torn up inside over the infinitesimally small chance that she will fail someone she loves.

Striding forward, Regina places her arms upon Snow's shoulder and fixes her with a stern expression.

"Listen to me," she commands, and Snow does so, chin quivering and eyes glistening with tears. Her button nose is red from the cold, and it adds a layer of misery to her expression that tugs at Regina's mostly blackened heart. "If there is one thing I know about you, it is that your heart is free of corruption. And I can prove it with one question that you _must_ answer honestly. Are you prepared to do that even if you don't want to?"

At Snow's fervent nod, Regina reaches up to cup her cheek with one hand, leaving the other in place on her shoulder as an encouraging anchor. She wipes away a stray tear with her thumb, and with more emotion in her voice than she has allowed to show since Daniel's death when speaking to Snow White, poses her simple but extremely loaded question: "Do you love me?"

Snow stiffens as if stricken, and she gasps out her dismay. Seconds pass as she fights against herself, her visage a mixture of fear, self-loathing, embarrassment, and hope.

"Snow, do you love me?" Regina repeats more firmly, squeezing at Snow's shoulder in a way that is meant to assure the conflicted woman that she need not let those emotions keep her from uttering a truth that Regina is already aware of. Regina's eyes flash, and as she stares at Snow, brown irises meeting green, she is screaming at Snow, ' _just say it! I already know! Just say the words!_ "

Finally after another half minute of prevarication, Snow deflates, sinking forward into Regina's grasp. "Yes," she admits, her voice a whisper that cuts through the air as if had been shouted at the top of her lungs. "Yes, I love you. I always have."

"And that is why I know your heart is pure, Snow White," Regina tells her. "After what I did to you, you could not love me otherwise. So, take courage. Be the person that won the hearts of an entire kingdom as little girl and who grew up, in direct contravention of my numerous attempts to prevent that from happening, into a Queen who is revered by her subjects for her unwavering kindness and equitable justice. And if you cannot take my word for it, then believe Red. Her confidence in you is unshakable. To this day she believes you to be the best person she has ever met, an assertion I can in no way refute. If not for me, do this for Red, Snow. Honor her faith in you by having faith in yourself."

Snow looks so touched by Regina's speech that Regina thinks for a moment she might cry. But then she straightens, her posture instantly improving. Shoulders back, head held high, she nods. "You're right. Thank you."

Regina gives her a smirk. "Of course I'm right. Now, get your ass in gear and do what you came here to do."

There is no hesitance at all when Snow turns and approaches the gate and then touches the seal upon it. All of her previous fears have been dispelled. The second her palm touches the surface, a sheet of green magic appears over the gate, much as it had over the walls of the Emerald City, and it shimmers for several seconds before drawing like a curtain. With the release of the magic, the gates automatically part, groaning upon their hinges as they separate to reveal the grove hidden inside.

Unable to enter, all Regina can do is stare in utter amazement. Whereas snow is falling outside, coating everything in a thin layer of white, inside the gates there is only spectacular verdancy. Lush grass carpets the ground as far as her eyes can see and there are radiant leaves upon the trees which themselves are bearing apples of a vibrant green the like of which cannot be equaled in the wild or by the crafty hands of men.

She is dumbfounded by the beauty of this sanctum consecrated to nature amidst the harsh climate of the mountain, but the sight of those blasted apples sends a ball of nausea into the pit of her stomach. She idly wonders if she'll ever be able to lift the ban on them she instituted in the palace after having the sight of a sampled one clenched between Red's stiff fingers. Her chest seizes painfully as she relives that moment. Having been the vehicle to deliver Zelena's nefarious curse has greatly diminished her love of the fruit. She hasn't even visited her beloved tree once since Red was cursed.

"It's so beautiful," Snow says, sounding almost far away due to the reverential tone she has adopted. "Her voice... _so_ beautiful, like a melody: gentle and wistful upon the air. I have to go to her. I _need_ to go to her."

The almost coerced nature of those words snap Regina out of the troublesome memory just in time that Regina watches Snow step forward and start towards the inside of the sanctuary. Her movements are absentminded, almost as if her legs are moving of their own volition, like she is being pulled by a magnetic force from within that tugs her inexorably away from where Regina and Dorothy are standing.

"Snow -" Regina begins to reach for Snow, terrified of what may happen to her, when Dorothy's hand stops her.

"Don't," the brunette says, her face showing no signs of anxiety as they watch Snow make her way through the threshold. Regina falters a step, panic bubbling up through her chest with every step Snow takes. When the gates then begin to close, the same mysterious magic at work that pried them open, she tries to wrench free of the strong fingers clamped around her forearm. She could not have predicted how viscerally she would react to Snow being in real danger. "She is perfectly safe," Dorothy adds, tone firm as her unrelenting grip. "The Grove is merely calling to her, that which is pure to that which is pure."

A great clang rings out through the vicinity. Snow kicks up off the ground from the force of the enormous gates drawing shut, and the gust of frigid air produced slams into Regina's already-numbing face, biting into the skin of her cheeks and nose.

Turning to Dorothy, she begins to demand that something be done only to halt at Dorothy's gentle expression.

"She won't harm Snow. I promise," the strong but kind warrior reassures her. "They are kindred spirits, just as she is with Ozma. All who are pure of heart are her brothers and sisters."

Regina is sure her bewilderment is easy to decipher. "You speak as if it is alive."

" _She_ is," Dorothy replies. "When Ozma created the Grove, she infused it with a tiny portion of her soul that it might live as she shall – forever. That it actually came alive was, according to her, a pleasant surprise. She often comes here to commune with the spirit of the Grove, for they are essentially of the same essence. That is why it must be guarded at all times. Should the Grove ever be destroyed, Ozma will diminish and become mortal."

This is news to Regina, which is irritating considering Ozma had the opportunity to fill both Snow and herself in on these facts while they were back at the cabin. Her anger flares up, and she gives Dorothy a minute snarl. "Why didn't she say anything when she had the chance?"

Dorothy wets her lips, an apologetic look on her face. "Ozma understands that mortals fear what they cannot comprehend. Had Snow known what awaited her beyond the gates, she might not have been able to overcome her fear to touch the seal. And had she shown fear when the spirit reached out, the spirit may have sensed that fear and withdrawn herself from Snow. Our mission would then have failed, for without the permission of the spirit residing within the Grove, none may take of what she grows."

While Dorothy's explanation makes sense, there is something bothering Regina beyond Ozma's secrecy, something regarding Zelena that flies in the face of what was just revealed. "If what you say is true, how did Zelena manage to get inside and obtain a leaf?"

"If you'll remember, I told you that she forced Glinda, a witch of pure heart, to open the seal," Dorothy replies evenly. Regina nods. "Well, the spirit of the Grove is alive, and that means she is intelligent. She knew what Zelena would do to Glinda should she fail to retrieve a leaf. She gave her leaf willingly to save an innocent life."

"Which she ought not to have done. Glinda always was a fool over me. Although who can blame her? Just look at me. I'm simply fabulous!"

The accented voice that sounds out from behind them is one Regina could recognize anywhere. It sends a white hot jolt of lightning down her spine that doesn't stop until it is curling her toes. Zelena has arrived early _._

The staggering shock of the arrival momentarily paralyzes Regina. _How is it possible that she found us? Did that snake, Darion, betray us as I feared he might?_ Panic inundates her brain, choking any response for a several heartbeats. But then as suddenly as it came on, the immobilizing grip on her body releases.

Immediately following, a rush of memory assails Regina as that snooty tone hangs heavy in the air and echoes down the length of her spine. Her eyes flutter closed and her stomach cramps viciously as if caught in the jaws of a vice. Robin's face floats through the darkness of her shrouded vision, twisted grotesquely as he attempted to warn her and Red of the impending danger only to have his words strangled by the remorseless grip upon his extricated heart. This was a man whose honor was as unassailable as his compassion; a father and husband and comrade who left so many grieving loved ones behind. Robin deserved to live a long, happy life full of love and laughter. Instead he fell victim to a vendetta that had less logic driving it than that which fueled Regina's own ridiculous grudge against Snow White.

Misthaven's poor and disenfranchised have lost one of their greatest champions. And Regina has lost one of her dearest friends. There will be no more moonlit conversations about how lucky they are that Regina rejected Tinker Bell's bumbling attempt at fixing the depressing mess that was her life and walked away from the tavern that day so long ago. Nor will there be sage advice doled out when she's had a quarrel with Red and stormed away for space before she said something she couldn't take back. The days are now over when they would commiserate over a glass of wine for the simple purpose of reminiscing about the good times they have shared at joint family dinners – that sometimes even included the Merry Men. Robin is dead, and for no other reason than she loved him. The immense tragedy behind that truth is almost maddening.

As Robin's agonized visage fades, no relief is to be found, for it is immediately replaced by another atrocious sight. In her mind's eye Regina sees the ruins of Tamerlon emerge from the inky blackness, columns of gray smoke swirling into the gloomy overcast sky, the acrid smell of burnt wood, scorched metal, and broiled flesh coalescing into a stench so pungent her stomach floods with bile. Scores of corpses all charred beyond recognition flit across her mind, a macabre dance of the anguished dead that seems never ending. Many are frozen in unnatural positions having been killed in a matter of seconds by the witch prior to ignition, their limbs twisted at preposterous angles, heads laid disgustingly against shoulders due to their spines having been severed by malefic magic wielded by an absurdly powerful maniac. Across the courtyard the pattern repeats over and over, so much death that her brain can hardly comprehend it all. She sees the inside of the chapel next, the horrific scene of innocents futilely piled into the corner for protection, a seething black mass of crisp flesh all that remains of the adults who died in the most ghastly way imaginable yet still curled inward toward the children huddled at the center who in spite of the efforts of their guardians have been reduced to so much human-shaped charcoal. The scale of human suffering in that place is beyond description.

And then just when Regina thinks it might finally be over, she is besieged by the most dreadful vision of all. In a flash of white light, she is back in her bedchambers again, stumbling drunkenly toward the bathroom, the door standing open as if in anticipation of her arrival. She enters, legs barely working, bare feet shuffling across the cold stone floor, only to stop cold. In shock, she can only stare as if stricken dumb and mute, her limbs unresponsive, her lungs paralyzed, her heart stuttering erratically in her chest. Red is there, just out of reach, sprawled in the floor holding a green apple with a mouth-shaped hunk bitten out of it. Regina feels the panic inundate her senses all over again, the sheer unadulterated terror seizing her every muscle fiber. Only this time it is worse because she has the knowledge of retrospect, the awareness that Red has been cursed, to fuel the fear and despair clawing at her skin and brutally excoriating the inside of her chest. With breathtaking speed the pain becomes unbearable. Sadly for Regina, it is only just beginning.

In the blink of an eye she is torn from that scene and deposited in another, the night she regained consciousness after her brief tussle with Zelena, the night she first sat by Red's sick bed and wept until her tears ran out. In rapid succession, she revisits every single instance of her bedside vigils, has to watch Red sweat with fever and shiver with cold, hear her whimper pitifully due to an inescapable pain she is trapped in as a direct consequence of Regina having been born. As she alternated keeping vigil in the chair she moved up to the bed or upon the bed itself at Red's hip, the guilt of responsibility over her wife's suffering warred incessantly with hatred and rage directed toward her half-sister. Sometimes the emotional turmoil became so unbearable she had to withdraw to the tiny washroom attached to the guest quarters where she could vent her frustration through desperate screams she muffled with an abducted pillow. Other times she sat silently, occasionally with the somewhat welcome company of her father, Iris, Robin, Mulan, or Marian; but always there was the condemnation she heaped upon herself for the unspeakable agony so cruelly visited upon the only person she loves more than herself. Watching Red languish in a torment from which there is no relief or deliverance was the worst torture she has ever been made to endure, and that accounts for her atrocious childhood and the early years of her marriage to Leopold before her heart and body had grown callous to the abuse she daily suffered.

In all of this, only one thought keeps Regina from losing her grip on sanity: it is finally time. The time has come for a reckoning. A time for revenge. A time for justice. A time for the accursed witch who has caused so much anguish to finally get her comeuppance. A time for Regina to make good on her promise to Red. Death has arrived at the Sacred Grove of Ozma and she welcomes it with all the childish glee of crisp Yuletide morning.

Regina's lips twist into an anticipatory sneer, and then she turns to face her destiny head on.


	30. The First Rule

**Standard Disclaimer** : These lovely characters ain't mine, I just play with them gently. Please don't sue me. The mistakes are mine, though.

* * *

 **Chapter 25** – The First Rule

As Regina faces her sister for the first time since Red was cursed, she does so anticipating an attack. Good thing, too. She barely has enough space to draw her sword before the first of her sister's handful of black-clad goons is barreling at her, sword drawn and a nasty sneer marring his lips.

A lance of icy terror scrapes down the length of her spine. She scrambles for the grip of her sword, heart thumping a furious rhythm as she pulls the blade free of its scabbard right as her attacker gains proximity to launch his attack. Instinctively, she cranes away as he plunges forward, her back bending at an almost unnatural angle. A puff of air at her cheek indicates how close she came to having a razor-sharp sword bisect her face. How she stays upright, she does not know, nor does she question her luck any further as she regathers her balance and swirls on her opponent who has careened by, his reckless charge having propelled him some feet away.

Out of the corner of her eye, she notices that a hulking warrior with a shield is engaging Dorothy, four of his comrades forming a loose semi-circle around the formidable woman as she slowly retreats. Regina turns her head long enough to watch for a few breathless moments. With each step backward, Dorothy exchanges swipes of her short sword with the sabers held by the guardsmen while deftly dancing out of the way when she is out of position, blocking or parrying an incoming blow. After one particularly vicious stab is sidestepped, Dorothy relieves the attacker of his hand with one clean stroke of her blade. A scream followed by a gurgling croak announces the man's death by a subsequent long slice of sharply tapered steel against the tender flesh of his throat. And then his four comrades advance, murder in their eyes.

With great difficulty Regina tears her attention away from her half-encircled friend to focus on her own foe. Having recovered now, the man is holding his humongous broadsword in both hands, its blade faintly gleaming in the scant sunlight filtering through the gray snow clouds above. They study one another through a pregnant pause, and then he's moving again at breakneck pace, this time more under control. Knowing his weapon to be slow and unwieldy, she lets him swing first. The sounds of steel on wood, grunts and the accompanying shuffles of feet against rocky ground filter in from Dorothy's direction as Regina sweeps the blow aside with her lighter, more delicate weapon. She responds with a blistering horizontal swipe that grants him the same fate as his fellow now lying dead at Dorothy's feet.

With her own problem dealt with, Regina swirls to help her beleaguered friend, only to find the warrior impressively holding her own against three opponents. Another attacker has joined his comrade face down in the dirt, blood leaking out in an ever-increasing halo from his fresh corpse. Having picked up the shield of the man she killed, Dorothy moves like a dancer, fluidly and swiftly swapping between adroit defensive maneuvers and vigorous, precise strikes to keep her multiple attackers off-balance. Slowly, however, they are hemming her in against the mountainous walls spanning the width of the Grove. Soon she will be unable to tactically retreat. Without more ground to give to aid in her defensive measures, she will quickly be overwhelmed by sheer brute force.

Rather than immediately spring to Dorothy's aid, Regina risks a moment to search out her sister. The fighters accompanying Zelena are not without talent, but sword and shield pale in comparison to the danger presented by a magician, especially one as strong as Zelena. Regina spots her half-sibling standing not very far away, a hearty stone's throw perhaps, watching the fighting with waning enthusiasm. Clearly things hadn't gone the way she anticipated, which pleases Regina immensely.

She glances at Zelena's side to an unfamiliar woman, a warrior with high cheekbones, long arched brows, a wide pouty mouth, rich brown hair pulled into a tight ponytail, and piercing blue eyes that seem to cut Regina to the quick. Stature at least equaling Red's, arms crossed over her chest, and womanly curves wrapped in unadorned black leathers with a wicked looking sword strapped to her hip, she cuts a striking figure. Violence lurks just beneath the surface of her carefully controlled posture, and judging by the scowl plastered across her face, she is even less impressed with the way the situation has developed than her leash-holder.

"I've brought along a bit of insurance," Zelena says, glaring hatefully at Regina. "Fastest blade in Oz. Isn't that right, Jilly?" She then glances over to the warrior at her side, who issues a grunted confirmation. "Well, go on then and take out the trash, won't you, doll. I don't just keep you around to look at. Earn your keep."

 _So this is the famous Jilly._ Regina remembers the soldier she killed who proclaimed this woman's beauty was only matched by her peerless skill with a blade. One assessment is true enough, although the sinister grin that spreads across the addressed warrior's wide, cherry-painted lips has no business marring a face so attractive as to be distracting. No doubt the woman uses her rare looks to gain an advantage over her opponents, which statistically would be mostly male, and probably to great effect. Regina ought to know; she used the same tactic, and quite shamelessly.

Recognizing she has little time to help Dorothy before she is set upon by this new threat, she takes a chance to summon a fireball. In one fluid movement, she turns and sends it flying in the direction of the men penning Dorothy between their angry weapons and the unforgiving sanctuary wall. She does not bother lobbing any more as it scores a direct hit. The man on Dorothy's right instantly catches on fire and scrambles away like a chicken with it's head removed, screeching at the top of his lungs. With nothing more she can do for Dorothy, Regina returns her attention to the woman Zelena called Jilly.

"Nice aim," Jilly says as she approaches, a pretty voice to match her pretty face. Startling blue eyes twinkle as she strides toward Regina, posture nonchalant as she draws a hand-and-a-half sword from its scabbard. Her gloved fingers grip the weapon with a loose but stable grip indicating plentiful experience with sword play. Zelena's claim of the woman's prowess with a blade sound less like boasting now and more like a simple truth.

"I try," Regina replies, grinning wryly. Falling into step with her foe, they begin circling one another just out of blade's reach. Regina is a coil of barely repressed energy while Jilly exudes a confidence born of many victorious contests.

Jilly returns the grin, the cut of her cheeks exaggerating in a way that accentuates her undeniable attractiveness. "Hope you're as good with that sword as you are with magic. Been a long time since anybody lasted more than half a minute with me, so I'm dying for a challenge."

"If you're that desperate, why don't you come find out, _Jilly_." Regina sneers the woman's name, causing the striking warrior's features to cloud for a split second before smoothing back out into an easy smile.

"Believe me, I intend to. It's Jillian, by the way, not that Zelena cares. Or you." She gestures absently between Regina and her sister with her free hand. "But it's always been my belief that a warrior should be called by their proper name, a concept my own sister never could grasp. Stupid bitch never learned to stop thinking with what was between her legs."

"We have that in common, then," Regina says, purposefully eyeing Zelena, which elicits a bark of laughter from Jillian that has Zelena scowling.

"You're funny. I like you. It's really too bad I have to kill you," says Jillian, then abruptly glances toward the wall as the sound of combat from that direction peters out. Regina's fireball did its job. At Dorothy's feet lay two dead men, their equally dead fellows not far away, one of them still on fire though he has long since stopped screaming. Expression thunderous, Dorothy begins to stride toward Jillian only to be stopped by Regina with an upheld hand. This is her battle and no one will be fighting it for her.

"Why must you kill me if I may ask? Besides the obvious, I mean," Regina then says to her opponent. She waves toward Zelena, who is now visibly upset at the turn of events. Apparently Jillian is supposed to be doing less talking and more killing.

Jillian shrugs as if Zelena's presence is a mere formality not worthy of discussion. "I fight for her because I like it. Killing is fun, and I'm great at it. Working for your sister gives me plenty of opportunity to have a good time." There is an edge behind her blue eyes, though, the belies that explanation.

Regina's eyes narrow. "No, there's more. You're here for a specific reason."

"My reason is my own." The reply is little more than a growl.

 _Touchy_ , Regina thinks, now wanting the story even more. Rather than press, however, she settles for the intrigue of mystery. Precious time is being wasted.

"Suit yourself," she says, adjusting the grip on her sword. "Ready to get on with this? Or are we going to talk ourselves to death?"

"Let's do it. You get first move, though. Never let it be said I was disrespectful to my elders," Jillian says, then throws Regina a saucy wink.

They circle one another for another few seconds before Regina figures she is, indeed, going to have to make the first move. Jillian evidently was not idle in assessing the strategy she used to defeat her first attacker and is not about to repeat his fatal error. _So she is as observant as she is sassy._ Her appreciation of the woman increases even as they stare each other down, sizing one another up. Blood rushes in Regina's ears, terrible anticipation settling into her bones and tensing her muscles. She takes a deep breath to calm herself. Discomfited nerves in a sword fight will get her killed. In response, Jillian's pupils narrow and the muscles in her neck twitch. She, too, readjusts her grip on her sword. Regina springs forward at that very moment, arcing her blade overhead toward Jillian's shoulder.

As expected, the blow is parried and her blade brushed to the side as her opponent shifts into a wider stance. The response from her counterpart is a looping slash at shoulder height that is blocked in the nick of time. Steel shears against steel, creating a tiny shower of sparks as two fine blades grate against one another. Regina puts her back into it, pushing Jillian away and rushing forward to offer a sharp jab at the woman's waist that is swept aside. She quickly regathers momentum, then follows up with more forceful stab at the pretty warrior's upper chest that is also batted away. Jillian swirls then, bringing her blade around at terrific speed toward Regina's head. She ducks under it, the air whistling as it passes over, and then ducks out of range to reorganize.

Jillian grins at her. Regina grins back. The thrill of battle descends upon her in earnest. With a cry, Jillian springs at her, unleashing a flurry of attacks that Regina counters, some of them only barely, and then answers with her own series of slashes and jabs. Time slows down into a crawl, the only sound she can hear the clanging of steel and the scuffling of boots against the hard, cold earth. Sweat beads on her brow, turning into lines of sweat that roll off her chin as seconds turn into a full minute and more. The muscles in her shoulders, arms, and legs burn with the effort to keep up with Jillian's blinding speed and nimble dexterity. Her only solace is that she is having the same effect on her opponent, judging by Jillian's increasingly labored movements.

After another frenzied sortie from Jillian that visibly drains her, they settle into a long, drawn out series of slower exchanges, including a few elbows and fists lashing out at faces, some of which find purchase. Again Regina loses all concept of time as she sinks into the inundating rhythm of battle. There is only parry and respond, stab then roll, evade then slash, duck then punch. Then, just when she is starting to get an edge, she makes an error. She misjudges the angle of her opponent's attack so that it is only deflected by the tip of her sword. The contact, glancing though it is, sends a jolt down the length of the blade, temporarily numbing her fingers. She almost drops her weapon but is able to resecure her hold just in time to knock away a swipe at her throat. Unfortunately, she is off-balance, and Jillian uses that to launch a kick to her midsection that sends her sprawling backward.

After rolling heel-over-head, Regina scrambles to her feet, lungs burning, only to find Jillian also panting for breath. Still, the woman is vibrant with life, eyes gleaming and lips spread into a grin indicative of battle joy. There was truth in her earlier answer that she loves this, the deadly stimulation of combat and the prospect of a kill. It is a thrill that Regina shares. Little else is as euphoric as when sickly sweet bloodlust dwindles focus down to one narrow point and causes movements become automatic and decisive, when all that matters is the next breath, the next heartbeat, the next second of life that burns with an intensity that cannot be replicated outside of warfare. Were circumstances different, she thinks she would have much in common with Jillian.

In that brief window where neither are in a hurry to get back to the business of killing one another, Regina laments they have come to blows. This is a woman who is near her equal with the sword, which puts her in select company. Few outside of Mulan can match her in a fair duel, and yet Jill has done precisely that. Were it not for the warrior being employed by Zelena, she would be happy to extend a lucrative offer of her own.

"I understand how you feel now," she says, and when Jill frowns in confusion, parrots the woman's earlier words, " _I like you. It's too bad I have to kill you_."

"I'm not dead yet," Jill says, a crooked smile forming.

Regina hums a concession, then sees an opportunity she cannot pass up. This may be the only time she ever speaks to this woman again, and there are things she wants to know.

"You will be soon, though. And for what? The thrill of combat? The high of chasing death? Come now. Why are you _really_ here?"

Jillian's brows draw in tightly, and for a split second it appears she is going to brush off the question. But then her features relax and she nods. "I guess there's no point being secretive since I'll be the one walking away from here. Alright. If you wanna know, I'm here for my sister."

"Your sister is also cursed?" Regina asks, assuming the Jillian is after the same thing she is within the Grove.

"No." Jillian's full lips stretch out into a grimace that swiftly turns thunderous. "My sister is dead. Killed by a snot-nosed bastard of a prince who used her up and then threw her away like trash. Told you she was a stupid bitch, but she was my stupid bitch."

"As you can see, there are no princes here," Regina says, ebony brow arching. "If you're looking to slay one, I fail to see how you can achieve any satisfactory vengeance by killing me. Or Dorothy for that matter."

"I'm not after either of you. The prince that killed my sister is dead, too. That disgusting old pervert Behemoth denied me the pleasure of wiping the arrogant, conceited smirk off his face forever." Pausing, Jillian eyes Regina, and slowly starts to smile. "Fortunately for me, he has an identical twin brother. Sort of a fitting cosmic justice since me and my sister were identical twins, too. And the prince's brother? Well, he eventually became a king. And as it just so happens, his queen is right on the other side of that door." She points languidly toward the gate. "After I'm done with you and your burly, fairy-loving friend over there, I'm gonna gut that blue-blooded bitch then send her entrails, along with her head, to her beloved husband. Maybe then Jack can rest in peace."

Hearing the tale sparks a familiarity in Regina that she dismisses out of hand. Her only concern now is the threat to Snow. For whatever reason, it lights a fire in her belly that spreads up into her chest, a burning that narrows her sight and transforms her visage. No one threatens Snow but her!

"I'm afraid your unfortunately named sibling will have to remain in Hades' care," she says, glaring ominously in Jillian's direction. "Snow White will leave this place alive. As will I. You, on the other hand, will join Jack very soon. Please give her my regards when you greet her in the Underworld."

"I'll do that when I see her in another thirty or so years."

 _With confidence like that,_ Regina thinks _, it is little wonder the woman has never lost a fight._ _Sadly for her, it's not going to help her today. She's never fought me before._

"More like thirty or so seconds," Regina says, correcting Jillian's statement with her own undiminished confidence. Jillian may be fighting for revenge, but Regina is fighting for love. As someone who has done both, she is the one with the clear advantage. Revenge is a fine motivator, but it is also an inherently destabilizing one. The longer one is driven by vengeance, the more desperate and reckless they become. Love, on the other hand, is innately entangled with hope, which means she is more likely to retain control over her emotions when circumstances turn dire and the situation looks bleak.

"Confident. I like it," Jillian says, tipping her head in respect. "Let's see how well it holds up to reality. Time to finish this. I've got other places to go and people to kill."

Regina smirks at the enemy she has quickly come to admire and then beckons her by waving her fingers. "I'd hate to keep you waiting, dear. Bring it on."

And then they are on each other again, a blur of motion and sound and fury. As before, they are evenly matched, though this time there is a sinister edge to the violence rising between them with every swipe of sword or butt of an elbow against a cheek. Both sense that the conclusion to their contest is imminent. Twice Jillian nicks Regina's leathers, once at her left shoulder and again on her left thigh, and she manages to connect a surprisingly powerful right cross after a combination of a sword jab that Regina sidesteps and a swirling reverse slash that she ducks under. Meanwhile, Regina scores some hits of her own, another high upon Jillian's cheek that leaks blood down the whole left side of her face, one to Jillian's sword arm in the meat of her triceps, and a broad diagonal slice to Jillian's stomach. She makes a mental note to thank her leatherworkers with a handsome Yule bonus, for whereas hers absorbed most of Jillan's hits, Jillian's did not do the same.

Upon studying her bloodied stomach, Jillian's eyes flash with distorted anger and she shouts a curse as she charges forward. Their previous exchanges are paltry in comparison to the brutal altercation that follows. Not an ounce of strength is spared by Jillian, who puts all of her energy into hacking at Regina's body with wild swings that, while forceful enough to remove a limb, lack any of her previous precision.

Regina does not attack, just lets Jillian tire herself shouting and slashing and kicking as she bobs and weaves and block. Both of them are pouring sweat now. It stings Regina's eyes and makes it that much harder to deflect the fierce barrages being leveled at her. The strategy is working, though. She can see Jillian on the precipice of a fatal slip-up. There are moments when the woman's berserker onslaught is almost too much for her to counter, such as now when she recovers too slowly from a blocked overhead strike to completely evade a jab at her side. Fire erupts midway down her rib cage, her leathers having finally given way to a powerful blow they could not turn. She staggers away, feeling liquid warmth trickle down her side and hip. But then, just as she is about to panic and scramble for a new tactic, an ill-advised lunging uppercut swipe from Jillian that she twirls away from provides her the opening she needs. Overextended, the warrior has left her entire right side open. Moving faster than she ever has, Regina completes her turn, brings her sword up to chest level, cocks her arm, and drives the blade through Jillian's chest at an angle that ensures it pierces her heart.

A gasp precedes blue eyes blowing wide. Then a sigh escapes Jillian's lips and she drops like a stone, taking Regina's sword down with her.

"Well, that's a disappointment. I had such high hopes for that one. Oh, well. Disposable minions are not all that hard to come by," Zelena says, strangely no longer scowling. Instead, she glances down at Jillian's body, studies it with a disconnected gaze and then lifts up a smirking visage to fix upon Regina. "Good job, Sis. Jilly was the best with sword I had met. Not a small feat taking her down. Especially since I caught you with your pants down. Thought you'd give me the old slip, eh?" She moseys toward Regina, hands clutching her skirts, hiking them up to her ankles to reveal a pair a glittering red slippers. "I'll admit," she says as she comes to a halt less than twenty feet away, "your little diversion was a clever ruse that had me going for a bit. Too bad I installed wards all over this area to alert me to any trespassers."

"You're the trespasser here, witch," Dorothy says, drawing to Regina's side, face twisted into a sneer. "The Grove belongs to no one!"

Seemingly enjoying Dorothy's reaction, Zelena replies, "Possession is a mere matter of strength, my pretty. Strength to take and strength to defend. So long as I am the strongest person in Oz, whatever I wish to claim is, in fact, mine. I invite you to prove otherwise..."

"You wouldn't be so confident if Ozma was here," Dorothy growls, hand going to the pommel of her sword. The action does not go unnoticed.

Zelena rolls her eyes as if exasperated. "But Ozma isn't here, is she? It really is too bad her bones are rotting in the Deadly Desert. I'd have liked to have a tango with a half-fairy mongrel whose infantile idealism was responsible for delivering Oz into my much more capable hands." Pausing, she strides forward half a dozen steps, her expression turning increasingly vile and mocking. "Who knows, maybe our duel would have evolved into a mating dance. You know violence is an aphrodisiac to many fairies. They say in the ancient days before humans arose from the dust that fairy battles always eventually devolved into mass orgies. I'd quite liked to have been involved in that to be honest. Sounds like an absolute riot of a good time. Also, I've always wondered if it's true their kind can copulate for hours. Perhaps Ozma could have taught me all about that. Hell, maybe she would have even let Glinda join in on the fun. You know, come to think of it, one for each hole is a delight I'll bet that puritanical waif would secretly relish. It's always the holier-than-thou sorts that are the dirtiest in bed..."

Regina catches the glint of steely outrage in Dorothy's eyes that tells her the situation is about to go south fast. Swearing internally at sister's uncanny ability to be despicable, she braces herself accordingly. But before she can even summon her magic, Dorothy springs forward with a cry of outrage, drawing her sword as she charges. Without further preamble, she swings the weapon in a mighty arc toward the witch's head.

Zelena, appearing as though she is having the time of her life, merely ducks out of the way as Dorothy careens past her. She does not waste the opportunity and utilizes the space between them to summon a spell with such alacrity that Regina cannot even react. In a flash of jade light, Dorothy is encapsulated in crystal, sword poised to charge again, just as she was when Regina discovered her back in the Emerald City.

Regina cries out in dismay at her friend's imprisonment.

"Ah, the heroically inclined," Zelena says to her around a smarmy grin as she paces back into Regina's line of sight. "So pathetically predictable. Her cute little crush on the dearly departed made her so very easy to provoke." She then slowly circles the encasing holding Dorothy, appraising it languidly. "I must say, I really do favor her in this form. She's quite lovely isn't she? All hard lines and strong features. Not a prototypical feminine beauty like my dearly departed Jilly or that stunning beast you collared for yourself, but a specimen worth appreciating nonetheless." Crystalline blue eyes flit up to her then. "I'll be sure to put her back in place when I'm done killing you, Sis. Knowing she was watching always made my private recreation so much more...well, fun."

Furious beyond description, Regina squares herself to her crazy half-sibling. Her magic thrums at her fingertips, begging to be unleashed. Lips curling in disgust, she spit out, "You really are one sick bitch, aren't you?"

Zelena tuts, still grinning like she's already won. "Such language. Tell me, did Mommy let you speak that way around her? I dare say not. Must have washed that dirty mouth of yours out with soap more times than you can count."

"Good thing it was me she raised then," Regina retorts, hatred burning in her eyes. "If it had been you, she would have been washing out _other_ things. I imagine that would have been extremely unpleasant. Seems unlikely, though. Judging by your inclinations, I'd wager you would have relished that sort of treatment from whomever the gods condemned to the miserable existence of raising you. Maybe you'd have even begged Mommy and Daddy for it. In fact, they probably realized what a degenerate they rescued from the wilderness and wished they left you to perish out there where they found you."

The barb hits home just as Regina intended. The art of insult is, evidently, a genetic talent.

Zelena's eyes flash dangerously as her smile falters. "Careful, Sis," she warns, speaking through gritted teeth. "Another one of those rude comments and I might decide to take my sweet time with you."

"Oh, so, you are still laboring under the false assumption that you can beat me?" Regina replies, suddenly perking up at the effect her goading is having. "And that after you failed so spectacularly back at my home? You must be daft, _Sis_. Has that carrot top of yours rooted down into your brain and scrambled it?"

Zelena ignores Regina's mockery of her hair color and dismisses the reference to her failure back in the Dark Palace with a wave of her hand. "Bah," she scoffs. "Your victory was an aberration that shan't be repeated. I merely had not expected such a show of power from a weakling like yourself. I'll admit, I was suitably impressed. Rest assured, however, I learnt my lesson. I am more than prepared for you now."

After smoothing her hand down the front of her leathers, Regina lights a fireball in her palm. The time for talk is over. "In that case, let's find out once and for all who the true weakling in our family is."

Zelena's lips quirk up into a malefic smile at the challenge. "Fine by me. I've been waiting for this for a long, long time. Finally we will put to bed once and for all the argument as to which of us is our mother's true heir. Game on, Queenie." And without further adieu, she summons a fireball of her own a shade of green that matches her glittering skin.

For a long space they stare at one another across the approximately twenty yard divide. Blue meets brown and no words are needed to convey their mutual contempt. This has been their destination since the moment Robin was murdered in front of the court: one final, glorious showdown, a contest between siblings for eternal bragging rights. Even if Zelena wasn't abandoned, Regina gets the feeling that the two of them would have been at odds. Perhaps their competitions would have been more cordial in that case, but the likelihood is low they could have co-existed in relative tranquility. Certainly not with their devilish mother encouraging their rivalry, as she undoubtedly would have. In such a scenario, Cora would not have been opposed to their frequent adversarial confrontations devolving into open conflict. So long as neither died, she would have encouraged it.

As it is, even without them having been raised together, them facing off here in Oz is the only variable that was not inevitable. Their personalities what they are, they were always going to engage in a duel to the death. Only to Regina, this contest is so much more about being better than her sister. It's about justice and vengeance, too. The mayhem and destruction and death Zelena has caused in Misthaven and beyond demands redress, and she is the willing instrument through which balance is to be returned to the scales.

If only her motives were so pure as that. It would be nice, for once, to be fighting solely for what is right. But she isn't. Not when her main reason for being here is Red. Red, who was caught in the crossfire of a battle only Zelena knew was being waged and who deserves retribution for her suffering. It is Regina's great honor to the be the delivery vehicle through which that retribution will be attained.

Regardless of happens here today, should she win or lose, it will have been for Red's sake. Regina allows that to be fuel, allows her rage to swell until it is cresting over the levees she has erected to protect everyone else from the savage creature that lurks within the shadows of her psyche. The pulsing wound in her side from Jillian's blade is blotted out as her fury rises alongside a memory flitting through her mind of Red on the floor with the cursed apple in her hand. It collides and then is superimposed over by another of Red comatose on the bed in the Royal Guest chambers, her skin flush with fever and her limbs unnaturally stiff. If Regina hadn't known better at the time, she would have assumed her wife was dead. The agonizing despair of that image burns through her like an inferno set loose upon a dry forest, and with it comes only intensely destructive heat.

Never has she desired to harm someone as much she does right now. Not even Snow after Daniel's death. Because as much as Snow was responsible for that travesty, Cora was even more so, thereby some of Regina's malicious intent – however small a portion – was deflected from her gullible ten-year-old victimizer. But Zelena is solely responsible for Red being sent hurtling toward the eagerly waiting arms of death. There is no ameliorating factor in her sister's decision to curse the most beautiful, decent, compassionate, loving person in all the word. Hatred and envy moved Zelena to those extremes, and today, one of those motivating factors will be revisited upon her. Poetic justice is about to be served and Regina cannot wait to dispense it.

Sensing that frigid spark of impending violence arcing through the air, both sisters toss their magical missiles at the same time. The fireballs clash midway between them, exploding into a shower of green and orange droplets of flame that rain down upon the clearing before the gates of the Grove. Some of them land upon the shoulders of Zelena's black dress, catching it on fire. As the witch recovers from their first volley, she snuffs out the fire with a puff of magic and then leers with malefic at Regina.

Boldly painted lips spread until gleaming white teeth are revealed. "Such a pretty show," Zelena comments, tone indicating she is thoroughly amused. "A display fit for royalty. And that was just the beginning. Now, let's see what else we can do, shall we?"

She then summons another fireball and launches it at Regina, which Regina deftly avoids by swirling in a circle and shifting to her left as she swivels. As she comes back around, she readies her own fireball and tosses it at Zelena the second she is in view. It screams toward the witch's head, and for a moment it seems as if Zelena has no intention of avoiding it. But then she sidesteps just before it smashes into her face, so that it glides by without causing any harm other than slightly singeing the curly ends of her hair.

"Close," she taunts haughtily, "but no cigar. Oh, little sister, you'll have to try so much harder than that if you want to take me down."

Regina growls, angry that Zelena is toying with her, which only intensifies her venomous animosity for the broccoli bitch. In response, she launches another fireball at Zelena, who retaliates with her own. As before, both projectiles miss their targets, though the margins are much thinner.

They exchange fire – quite literally – like this for several minutes, and the physical exertions of ducking and weaving and swirling to avoid each others spells banishes the cold altogether. Although Regina is certainly aiming to kill Zelena and knows her sister's intentions are reciprocal, their back and forth is mostly for show. Neither manage to land a blow on the other. Two of their fireballs collide between them as the first had, exploding in a cacophony of booming noise that rattles Regina's eardrums and creates a shower of molten plasma that sails into the open air of the pass only to dissipate into puffs of appropriately colored smoke. Most sorties sail by their intended targets only to harmlessly slam into the cliff walls of the mountain hemming them in on two sides or collide against the massive wall spanning the cavernous space hosting their duel.

After lobbing another dozen fireballs at her sister without scoring a hit in addition to evading Zelena's own volleys, Regina begins to feel a slight ebb in her magic. She knows she will have to switch up her tactics or else the fight will swiftly turn against her. Nothing is being accomplished besides providing entertainment to her certifiably insane sister, whose demented grin has not slipped for one second the entire time they have been locked in combat.

As Regina tosses the final fireball in a sequence of four, she works through her options, and realizes that ultimately there are few considering she does not have a lot of wiggle room. Every second she wastes dithering about with Zelena is a second she cannot get back, a second in which Red will have to endure imprisonment in the Burning Room, in which her body will be drained of vitality by the pernicious curse she is suffering under. Also, her energy reserves at capacity are almost certainly far exceeded by Zelena's. That she partially tired herself dealing with Jillian only complicates matters. Both of those factors lead her to conclude she will run out of steam long before her sister does. She cannot afford to allow their confrontation to reach that stage, lest she inadvertently expend herself and risk being incapacitated. Therefore this stalemate, short lived as it is, has to broken. It is time to lay it all out on the line and tap into her greatest asset.

Focusing on her unsearchable, undefinable, impossibly deep love for her wife, Regina does as she had insisted to Ozma she could do. Delving into the space in her chest she had felt the incredible surge of energy, she searches for that mysterious force that repelled her sister back home. For one dreadful moment, she fears it will fail her at the hour of need and she laments her decision to remove her heart to secure Jefferson's trust. Zelena, who is not an ignorant woman, perceives this brief bout of panic and advances on Regina with lustful eyes, sure she is about to secure her ultimately victory.

Just in the nick of time when Regina feels despair setting in, and despite her lack of a heart beating in her chest, another miracle happens. A flash of white streaks behind her eyes and with it comes an incredible surge of power that floods her body. Like a geyser unleashed from a thousand years of being bottled up in the dark recesses of the earth, waves of pure devotion and reality-shattering love spring from inside her and pour out with a force that wrenches her body forward. It demands to be unleashed with a desperation that cannot be denied.

To offer a more stable platform, Regina spreads her legs apart and bends them slightly at the knees before pushing her hands forward. A hoarse shout tears free from her lungs as molten beams of plasmatic magic burst from the palms her hands, singeing the skin around their exits. A resonating, bass whoosh reverberates through the horseshoe shaped canyon as the bright white magic crosses the distance between Regina and a shell-shocked Zelena. It moves too quickly for the Wicked Witch to avoid and slams into her chest, sending her sprawling backwards is a flurry of snow and dust. She groans when she stops moving, struggling to get up.

Her enemy being temporarily addled is an opening that Regina cannot afford to squander. Accessing her new stores of magic, she shoots another beam toward Zelena, only this time, her sister is unexpectedly adroit in her reaction. As if on reflex, a bubble of translucent green forms around Zelena, a shield which absorbs the energy of the white magic, much like the one Regina had utilized to bar access to Red back in the Dark Palace. As Regina's magic slams into it, it pulsates and groans in protest of a power more pure and potent than it is used to resisting. The shield will not hold for long, Regina knows, but it affords Zelena precious time in which to recover her composure. Though she has achieved an advantage, it is unfortunately a minor one.

If nothing else, though, she derives immense satisfaction from the fact that Zelena's smug expression is gone, along with her obnoxiously tall hat which was knocked from her head as she collided with the rocks. The bun her hair was twirled into is also hilariously mussed, leaving her with a rumpled and unhinged appearance that is absolutely delicious to witness.

"It's no fun getting knocked on your ass, is it?" Regina poses, smirking deliberately and with more panache than her sister had earlier. "But I have to say, rolling around in the mud suits you."

Zelena's own words being thrown back in her face do not sit well. She growls as she stands to her feet and then touches her hands to her magical shield. "I'm going to enjoy snuffing you out of existence, Regina," she says, and then begins to push against Regina's magic with her own. A ball of light the color of the inside of a honeydew melon forms as their disparate magics mix, repel each other, and combust. Arcs of lightning and sprays of roiling plasma shower the entire area.

 _Good thing we're on a mountain and not in a forest,_ Regina thinks. _Else we'd start a fire that might kill us both._

The sheer force of Zelena's current of energy repels Regina far enough away that she can safely dissolve her shield. Once it evaporates, and with the dual strain on her power reduced to a single source, she levels a brutal counterattack. Unfathomable streams of energy pass through the green beam of magic, so much that Regina's own supreme source of power begins to give way under the assault. Slowly, inexorably, green surpasses white, and with each inch of progress, Regina is further pushed toward the far cliff wall. Channeling with all of her strength now, she taps into her reserves and unleashes her full might. For the briefest of moments, the white stream of magic is injected with purple, her dark magic she realizes, and the infusion succeeds in restoring a stalemate between them.

Unfortunately, realization immediately dawns like a harsh slap across the jaw. Unlike before in the Dark Palace, Zelena is actually holding her ground instead of being repelled. Her sister had been so confident in stating she was ready for their rematch and now she is proving it to Regina's dismay.

After another minute of intensive effort, she comes to an awful conclusion. Because Zelena seems to be completely unaffected by the huge quantities of energy they are both rapidly burning through, she has either found a way to hoard excess energy or the stores she has access to are vast beyond Regina's comprehension. Rumple was right after all, as he always seems to be, and not only about how superior Zelena's raw ability is to hers. It is clear now that her sister was anticipating this exact scenario, and even though she had been deceived as to the timing, she has Regina right where she wants her.

It has never been more obvious that this cannot be a contest of endurance. A battle of attrition is one she will invariably lose. Loathe as she is to admit it, her sister is clearly the superior magician, both in terms of potency and capacity. If she attempts to exhaust Zelena, she will fail. Her energy will be fully depleted long before her sister's, rendering her unable to defend herself. Or worse. Having never utterly drained herself, she has no idea what will happen. There is every possibility it could actually kill her.

Thankfully, there is a weapon she possesses that Zelena has shown a remarkable lack of. That weapon is, namely, wit. Again, Rumplestiltskin's words come back to haunt her. It is her ability to think creatively in the heat of the moment that will be required to defeat her sister. But how? Ozma's advice suddenly pops into her head, advice she had already been aware of but apparently needed reiterated to her in the hours before this fateful moment. People like Zelena, who operate on emotion, are susceptible to manipulation. The question is: to what end? How is she supposed to manipulate her opponent into making a fatal mistake in the middle of a witch fight?

That last phrase sends a chill down Regina's spine. Seemingly at the most inopportune time, she hears her mother's voice in her head.

When she was about fifteen, she started to get curious about her mother's magic. All of the typical enthusiastic questions ensued. _What does it feel like to do magic? Can you walk on water or turn water into wine? Can you create life with it? Is it possible to summon ghosts or ascend to some higher plane of being? What's it like to fight with magic?_ Her mother answered most of her questions either curtly or obliquely. Except for the last one. The last one actually produced an in depth answer that in retrospect convinced Regina her mother knew she was going to become a fellow practitioner of the dark arts. In an hour long spiel she never forgot, her mother proceeded to teach her the thirteen practical rules that must be adhered to upon entering into a witch fight.

The first one blasts like a claxon in Regina's head. Loud and blaring, it announces the sole path out of this mess that does not end in her demise. She knows now what she has to do.

"I wish mother could be here," she calls out over the roaring of their dueling magics. Her voice is strained from channeling her magic, but obviously decipherable as she sees Zelena react to what she says. "She would be so disappointed to see her elder daughter struggling so mightily against the younger. You know, I spoke to Rumplestiltskin about you," at the mention of that name, Zelena falters just a bit, and her magic gives way a fraction of an inch, "and he went on and on about how much more powerful than me you are. I think he's finally losing his damn marbles. I just don't see it. I'm getting bored over here, to be frank."

"Let me cure you of that, then," Zelena grits back, and then emits a shrill shriek as she pours herself into her spell.

This, Regina knows, is the tricky part. If she makes one wrong misstep, judges her movements incorrectly by a fraction, she will almost certainly die. In a calculated gambit, she dials back her magic by small increments until Zelena is beginning to grow overconfident, at which point she totally extinguishes the flow altogether. With all resistance eliminated, Zelena's verdant stream roars through the unoccupied space between them. Just as the green beam is about to ram into her chest, Regina twists her torso so that it impacts her shoulder. The resultant blow doesn't kill her, though it is still forceful enough bore a hole through her shoulder. It also sends her hurtling backward like a rag doll tossed by a rampaging ogre. She slams into the cliff wall at terrific speed, knocking the wind out of her.

She lands in a heap upon the ground, temporarily dazed. Her entire body aches and her shoulder is screaming bloody murder, but she is alive and mostly in control of her faculties. When she hears rather than sees Zelena approaching, she rolls over with a pained grunt to a seated position so that her back is leaning against the sheer cliff wall. Blood leaks from her nose and she can feel a trickle of wetness tracking down the back of her head. For effect, she coughs roughly and groggily lolls her head in between winces of agony, hoping to convince her sister the collision discombobulated her much more severely than it did. Through purposefully unfocused eyes, she can see Zelena's insufferable smirk.

"Not so cocky now, are we?" the green witch mocks derisively.

"I've had...worse," Regina grits out, her wounded side vociferously protesting once again. She gives her sister a bloody smile, her teeth stained from where she'd bit the inside of her lip. "Felt like...an ant slapping me compared to mother's...heavy hand. Also seen better tricks...out of Red's wolf. How'd you ever conquer...this place?"

Zelena's eyes glint and she kneels down at Regina's side. "Here. Let me show you."

Regina holds her breath against what she knows is coming, and barely restrains a grunt of protest when Zelena's hand plunges into her chest. But this is exactly what she had planned, and she delights in the noise of utter shock her sister makes at finding that there is no heart inside for her to snatch out and then crush. All pretense over, Regina returns her sister's smirk while Zelena's eyes frantically flit from her hand stuck in Regina's chest to Regina's suddenly clear eyes.

 _Thank you, Mother,_ Regina thinks to herself, finding a pleasant irony in being grateful for her atrocious childhood. Out loud, she says, "Ah, yes, that's right. You weren't raised by Mother, so you never learned the Thirteen Rules of a Witch Fight. Let me enlighten you about the first: never, ever, bring your heart to one."

And with that triumphant statement, Regina plunges her own hand into Zelena's chest. Unlike her elder sibling, her fingers find purchase. As they tightly wind around Zelena's heart, she whispers a command for silence and stillness from her new thrall. As an experiment, she gives the organ a squeeze, reveling in the gasp of pain that comes from her suddenly helpless sibling, who is completely unable to respond due to the enchantment binding her in Regina's service.

The battle is all but over now. Feeling the euphoria of victory flood her system, time slows down and the earth ceases movement as she leans in so that her nose is nearly touching Zelena's. This close she can see how big and brilliant her sister's blue eyes are and how unnaturally pretty she is. Just for a moment she laments that they did not get the opportunity to grow up together. Behind the lunacy, she catches a glimpse of the buried emotions she used to see in herself whenever the pressure of maintaining her mask got too much and it slipped just a little bit. They are in no uncertain order: loneliness, fear, pain, and desperation.

It isn't hard for Regina to decipher the underlying causes. Being an orphan leaves a hole in a person's heart from a young age, a hole that can never be filled. Red has talked about this at length. However much Regina and Granny and Snow love her, they cannot replace what she was deprived of. Also, from what she's garnered, Zelena manifested her magic very young. People fear the things they don't understand and that can harm them, so it is a safe bet that Zelena's parents, either one or both, used her magic as an excuse to ostracize her, which would only exacerbate her feeling of isolation.

Meanwhile, the fear isn't just from the recent downturn of her fortunes, but are a reflection a more insidious root. When Regina first learned how to harness her inherent magic, fear quickly replaced exhilaration. Being able to incinerate a human being with a flick of the wrist can be a seductive power trip, but it can also cause practitioners to develop of healthy – or unhealthy depending on their mental fortitude – fear of themselves. Magic is power that human beings are ill equipped to handle. It takes so much diligent instruction to mold a capable magician who is not a danger to his or herself. It is not unheard of for novices to unintentionally self-destruct upon attempting a spell over their competency or which overtaxes their energies. Again, Zelena having manifested young would mean she would be especially susceptible to this innate fear. No doubt, her adoptive parents did not help, either. In some realms, magic is looked upon as evil and openly persecuted. Regina gets the sense that Zelena is familiar with such persecution.

The pain she sees has the most clear cause. She's seen it a thousand times before, and even more than that in herself when she's had a bad day then gets in front of a mirror. It's the look of someone who has walked through the humiliating crucible of abuse at the hand of a loved one. Wounded animals freed from their cruel owners reflect the same sorrowful glint in their eyes. It's honestly pathetic to behold. The consequence of abuse is generally the same, almost as if the person has completely given up due to losing all concept of self-worth. For the longest time, Regina shifted her sense of her own value into her magic and she can tell at a glance that Zelena did the same.

As for the desperation, it is perhaps the hardest for Regina to observe because it is excruciatingly obvious that deep down all Zelena ever wanted was to be loved. And how does she know that? Because it's all she ever wanted, too. Abused children are kindred in having this same desperate desire in them to be loved by someone, anyone really, who can look past their ugly exteriors and undesirable traits to see the vulnerable heart beating within their chests. All the hardness they develop as they mature is a shell to protect that soft underbelly from the repeated injuries sustained when they were too young or naive or stupid to figure out what was happening to them was wrong. There is nothing more heartwrenching for her, as a twice over victim, than to see this look in someone else. And it is far, far worse than she could have ever imagined to recognize it in her own flesh and blood.

Now more than ever, it becomes agonizingly apparent that she and Zelena are more alike than they are different. And with the end literally staring her in the face, she can't help but wonder how things might have been had their mother not been a selfish, heartless woman that kept them apart solely to use Regina for her own nefarious purposes. Might they have been the best of friends? Or was her initial assessment correct in assuming they would have been bitter rivals still, unable to shake off the heavy hand of inherited traits that made them equally susceptible to transformation into monsters? Either way, it didn't really matter anymore. It is far too late for what ifs. Cora's care for nothing other than her own interests condemned both of her daughters to their current fates. Being shaped by the misery of their mother's choices on their behalf meant this path that ultimately lead to their deadly confrontation was unavoidable.

The only difference now between them is that where Regina eventually let go of her vendetta against Snow for the sake love, Zelena could not. Her sister's single-minded obsession for revenge drove her far beyond the redemptive ability of any form of love. A pardon now would be pointless. Zelena will never let go of her hate, will never stop trying to smudge out the pain of her past through countless acts of violence and unspeakable atrocities, and she will never, ever stop trying to erase Regina from existence. As such, Zelena poses a perpetual threat to everything Regina holds dear – Red in particular, who is already suffering as collateral damage – should she be allowed to live. That is something she cannot tolerate, blood relation be damned.

Before giving in to her darkness for one last time, and feeling justified in doing so to protect her wife, she leans in to give her sister a sweet, gentle kiss upon the lips. She does not offer it mockingly, but out of a genuine remorse – not for what she is about to do, but for the inescapable collision course their mother set them on that led to this horrific conclusion.

Zelena's eyes widen with shock at the unexpected act of tenderness. Unable to speak of her own volition, nor will she be permitted to ever again, she can do nothing but mouth out the word, "why?"

"Because I'm sorry it has to be this way," Regina tells her, and then leans in to whisper against Zelena's cheek. Zelena tries to jerk away unsuccessfully due to being paralyzed by Regina's exertion of control upon her heart.

"I truly am sorry, Zelena," Regina continues, hoping her sister can hear how much she means what she is saying. "I wish there was another choice, that I could see a way to save you after this. But I just don't. You are a danger to me, to my kingdom, and most importantly to my wife. For Red's sake alone, I cannot allow you to remain alive. Were I not a married woman with an obligation to her spouse or a Queen beholden to her subjects, I might have at great risk attempted to rehabilitate you. Even then, I am afraid we would have inevitably wound up in such a position as this, with one of us killing the other."

Backing away slightly, Regina looks into Zelena's eyes one last time, and speaks her final words to her sister. "As much as you've hurt me, I know this is not all your fault. I don't blame you for everything you've done. How could I when I have committed so many sins myself? Our mother sealed this conclusion to our story as siblings long ago. Before either of us ever really had a chance, she broke us without regard for what we might mean to one another. She is the true culprit, and I wish with all of my heart she was the one paying for her trespasses a second time and not us. But wishing is futile when reality must be dealt with. So when you see her in whatever fresh hell awaits you in the afterlife, please give her my regards. Tell her that Regina still hates her, and that when my time comes to join you both, I intend to spend my eternity making hers as miserable as possible."

Rather than pleading with Regina for mercy, Zelena's countenance darkens, becomes full of hatred and loathing devoid of even an ounce of remorse. The reaction only confirms for Regina that she has made the right choice. That reassurance does not make her next action any easier.

"I will see you there, as well," she says. "I hope we can start again then, in another time and place without our Mother's sinister shadow between us. And who knows, perhaps then you and I will at last be united in a common cause against the source of both our miserable childhoods. Whatever the case, this is goodbye, my sister." And after one final kiss to Zelena's forehead, Regina closes her fist, crushing the heart in her hand into so much dust.

A solitary tear slips free from Regina's lids as Zelena gives a guttural groan. Blood pours from her nose and the corners of her mouth, which hang open in a silent scream. Suddenly terrified at the end of her life, those brilliant blue eyes go as wide as humanly possible without them popping from their sockets, only to dilate, gloss over, and then twitch laterally a few times before the light behind them fades. Lifeless, Zelena slumps against Regina, who uses the momentum to guide her sister's corpse to her right side.

Victory has been secured but she feels anything but exultant. She is frozen to the bone and completely exhausted. Thus weakened and spent, she is unable to resist the pull of unconsciousness. Heedless of her attempt to fight it, her eyes roll up behind her lids and she collapses against her sister's fresh corpse. The smell of Zelena's thick perfume fills her nostrils. For the rest of her life, she will never be able to smell strawberries without thinking of how despondent she feels as her vision fades. Her sister is dead and for what? She is stuck in another world and Red is still cursed.

Her side throbbing and wet with blood, Regina finally succumbs to the encroaching blackness. As it swallows her whole, a curse rolls from her tongue.

"Damn you, Mother. Damn you for all eternity..."

And then she knows no more.

* * *

A/N: Well, the witch is dead. Poor Zelena. Forgive me for the abuse I subjected you to! It's all down hill from here folks.


	31. A Friendly Lie

**A/N:** To the guest reviewer, thank you for the lovely note! I am also a huge fan of Regina and Snow's relationship. Their progression on the show was one of the few highlights for me past Season 2. Glad to see I didn't bungle them here. Hope you enjoy the rest of the story!

 **Standard Disclaimer** : These lovely characters ain't mine, I just play with them gently. Please don't sue me. The mistakes are mine, though.

* * *

 **Chapter** **30** – A Friendly Lie

When Regina regains consciousness the first time, she cannot even muster the energy to peel her eyes open. All she can vaguely ascertain is that someone is gently running their fingers through her hair in a rhythm that has her sighing in satisfaction. _Red_ , _my love_ , she thinks, barely aware of anything except how wonderful it feels to have her hair stroked like this and thus associating it with something her wife loves to do to lull her to sleep.

There is something hypnotic about being half sprawled out over Red's body, head resting against her chest with that strong, reliable heartbeat thudding in her ear while long, nimble fingers weave lazy, nonsensical patterns through her hair. Red says the effect such petting produces on Regina's expression reminds her of a cat getting its head scratched, a comparison she doesn't really mind so long as she's of a majestic variety such as a sleek black panther or a fearsome striped tigress. Never mind it reinforces the perception many strangers and distant acquaintances have of them, that they are an odd, mismatched couple who ought not be compatible. That they are and on virtually every level is a sure sign of the impending Apocalypse to some, which oddly makes sense seeing as if Regina is a cat, she is one that spends her nights sleeping with a wolf.

Yet even if the end times were to dawn because of their abnormal relationship, she wouldn't give it up. Being wrapped up in Red's arms, wholly enveloped by her warmth and blissfully inundated with her sweet scent, boneless and sated, soaking in the lavish attention...well, it's one of the best feelings in the world. Better than having the most diligent attendants waiting on her hand and foot to fulfill her every desire and accommodate her every whim. Better than the heady rush of adrenaline combat gives her or the meteoric euphoria of wielding the absolute power of life and death over another human being. Leaps and bounds better than sex with any of the lovers she's ever had for that matter. Not quite so much better than sex with Red, though, as that is the perhaps the only feeling that approaches being the auspicious, halcyon recipient of her wife's affectionately doting service.

Beyond the comforting ministrations, Regina notices with great pleasure that she is no longer being victimized by millions of pins and needles thrust into her skin by the bitterly cold air of the mountaintop. Her entire body is blanketed in a warmth that makes her feel so snug and relaxed that, when combined with the delicate strokes of talented fingers, wraps her back up into the welcoming arms of sleep. She drifts off again almost immediately.

The next time she awakens is a less welcome experience. A terrible, agonizing pain jolts through her side, causing her to gasp aloud and her eyes to snap open. A heartbreaking sight greets her. She is not back home as her addled brain had led her to believe. It had not been Red so gently brushing long fingers through her hair. How could it have been? Red is back home, trapped in a sleeping curse, wasting away in another world so far away from her current whereabouts in Ozma's cabin. Bitter disappointment seeps into her chest along with a dull ache in her shoulder where she was wounded in the fight with Zelena.

Thankfully the humming of a voice like a birdsong of a morning, lilting and full of happiness, breaks the short spell of misery Regina was succumbing to. Searching out the source, she finds Ozma sitting at the bedside, just out of frame but close enough to be able to sift her dexterous fingers through Regina's hair as she stares serenely out the room's lone window.

Upon catching a pair of dark brown eyes lazily peering up at her, a smiles spreads across her lips that takes Regina's breath away. "Why, there you are, sleepy head! I was beginning to think you would never wake up. You almost drained yourself up there, you silly woman. Your mangled shoulder did not help matters, either. My, that was an ugly wound!"

Regina groans as she realizes just how drained she really is – frighteningly so. "How long was I out?" She barely recognizes her own voice, weak and hoarse as it is, and of a deeper timbre than normal so that it rattles her chest.

"Nearly eight hours," answers Ozma. "It is nearing sundown now."

 _So long?_ Regina thinks, beginning to panic. So many thoughts are swirling around her foggy brain that she can barely even make sense of a fraction. The last thing she remembers is killing Zelena and feeling atrocious about it. She also remembers wishing she could get her hands around her mother's black heart one more time. Beyond that is nothing but black. But before that...things start clearing up quickly.

"Where is Snow?" she asks immediately, bolting up to a seated position as she frantically sweeps the familiar room with her eyes. "And Dorothy...is she okay? Where are they, Ozma?!"

Before replying, Ozma takes Regina's hand between hers and steadily but tenderly applies pressure. "Calm down. They are both fine," she says, keeping her tone even. "They were beginning to wear a rut in my floors from their pacing, so I sent them outside to walk off their frustrations. They've been worried sick about you, as was I."

Regina relaxes against the pillows upon learning her friends are safe. "Thank heavens," she sighs. "Zelena surprised us with a squad six strong after Snow disappeared inside the gates. There was a fight. After it was over, she trapped Dorothy in another of those crystalline prisons."

Ozma gives Regina's hand a delicate pat. "I know. Dorothy told me all about it," she then says. "Observing your tête-à-tête showdowns was a rather terrible experience for her. Especially the one with Zelena."

"I can imagine seeing as my sister was trying to melt my face off," Regina returns, not liking how guilty she feels about Dorothy having to watch what happened, and thus transferring blame onto Zelena, which was an apt if not lame deflection. Ozma raises a perfectly arched golden brow at that, her subtle way of informing Regina that she is aware of what Regina is doing. "But yes," Regina amends, "I am sure it wasn't pleasant for her. I'm sorry for that."

"You needn't be sorry," Ozma replies with an understanding smile. "I'm merely thankful, as are we all, that you came out victorious."

Regina scoffs, her side twinging. "Barely." She absently checks her side, finding the flesh healed but still tender to the touch.

"I took care of that nasty wound," Ozma says, brows drawn with worry. "It will hurt a while, but you've no need to worry about pulling stitches. I closed it the same way I did Dorothy's arrow wound."

"My thanks." Regina rubs the wound a few more times for good measure, just to be sure. Not that she doubts Ozma. It is simply in her nature to verify for herself.

After an awkward pause, Ozma takes a deep breath, her disposition somewhat clearing of the lingering shadows remembrance of Regina's injury cast. "So you met Jillian, I hear," she says. "I'd thought Zelena would have left her behind in Misthaven to oversee her affairs there. Otherwise I would have warned you about her. Vicious little thing, she was."

Regina's lips twist into wry smile. "I'm not that lucky. And yes, she was quite violent in a joyful sort of way. And talented. I have seldom crossed swords with her peer. She almost killed me several times. I was almost loathe to return the favor. Sadly only one of us was going to leave the Grove alive, and it wasn't going to be her."

Ozma's uncomfortable nod says much of Jillian's reputation as her brief duck of the head does her disapproval of Regina's blasé approach to her duel with the formidable swordswoman. "I don't know where Zelena found her," Ozma says after lifting her head, all evidence of her disquiet gone. "All I know is she was not a native to Oz and was a remorseless killer that plagued my realm and terrorized my people for far too long."

Those holes in Ozma's knowledge are ones Regina can readily fill. So she does. "Apparently she hailed from my world. She mentioned having a twin sister named Jack, strangely enough, who became embroiled with the twin of Snow's husband, Charming. Turns out she was there for revenge. I can only assume that when it was discovered Snow and I were in Oz, she refused to be left behind. For whatever reason, Zelena accommodated her."

Ozma hums, waves her hand absently. "Theirs was a strange relationship. Not like Zelena had with Glinda, mind you. Jillian had a string of men on retainer for her pleasure. There was mutual admiration there, though, or something similar to it. There were never far from one another and if so never long parted."

"Probably due to their shared desire for revenge. It's a powerful bonding force."

"So I've been told," says Ozma, lips drawn tight, clearly struggling with the pull on her to darkness she has to this point so heroically resisted. She shakes her head and the trouble clears like storm clouds being brushed away by a gentle breeze. "Whatever the case, I'm glad she's no longer a problem. And that you survived your encounter with her. Few others can say the same."

"Taking care of her was far less problematic than disposing of my sister." Regina winces, thinking of her travail on the mountain and the wing-and-a-prayer gambit that won her victory against her broken, demented sibling. "I had to resort to drastic measures. Had I contested Zelena conventionally, she would have killed me."

Ozma smiles approvingly. "Yes, I was told how you rather cleverly goaded her into getting too close, thereby enabling you to strike the fatal blow. Well done. But, I'm more interested in hearing about a new development in your powers. According to Dorothy, you used white magic during the battle. Pure white, at that."

"I did," Regina confirms. "It took me by surprise. I had thought that was impossible for a person whose heart has been blackened even a little, not to mention one such as much as mine which was almost wholly dark not that long ago."

Ozma frowns deeply. "A falsehood spread by wicked fairies who would rather people be left hopeless. Acts of True Love _are_ white magic, so you have already performed one whether you realize it or not. Because you are a sorceress, your motivation is what determines what type of magic you can access. There was a time you only sought to do evil, ergo purple magic. But at the Grove, even though you had to do something that was distasteful, your motivations were pure. You acted out of True Love when you fought your sister, and thus your magic was white. Does that make sense?"

"It guess so," Regina nods, but then she shakes her head and corrects herself. "Or maybe it would if I could regain full cognitive capability. My head is still spinning."

"You overextended yourself," explains Ozma. "And to such a degree that had I not intervened, you might have remained comatose for days."

"Days?!" Regina screeches. "I can't afford that! I have to get back to Red!"

Ozma reaches out a hand to place it upon Regina's shoulder, firmly grasping it. "I am aware. Which is why I not only healed your wound, but infused you with a portion of my own energy to speed up the recovery process. And while I recognize your haste to return to your beloved, I caution you to use wisdom. You are very weak and your magical energy is still quite depleted. Recovery is a process. You will not be able to adequately defend yourself with it for a few hours at bare minimum."

"What would you have me do, then?" Regina asks, a forlorn look upon her face. From how it sounds to her over-anxious ears, Ozma is forbidding her to leave the cabin until she can properly defend herself, and she does not have that kind of time. Every minute that ticks by is a minute lost to saving Red. "I can't just sit around and wait. Red is suffering, Ozma. She is suffering because of me. I have to get to her."

"I know," smiles Ozma, an almost mischievous look on her face. "That is why Dorothy and I will be accompanying you to this Jefferson fellow and his fascinating little top-hat portal."

"But what about the barrier that separates you from Oz?" Regina asks, suddenly worried for Ozma when she shouldn't be. It hasn't quite yet caught up with her that Zelena is dead, and therefore Ozma no longer has a reason to be in hiding.

"I lifted it the moment I felt Zelena's spirit pass from this world," Ozma replies. "Knowing she was dead meant I was safe to leave this place, so I traveled to the Grove and found you unconscious and Dorothy tending to your wound. After helping her stabilize you enough to move, I went inside to fetch Snow – she was entranced as she communed with the benevolent avatar that resides within, but that is another story for another time. Once the avatar permitted us to take samples of the tree bark, I transported the lot of us back here, where Dorothy and Snow carried you inside. The rest is self-explanatory, I think."

Regina nods, satisfied by Ozma's version of events, except one pointed question that crops up as a consequence of how she'd come to know Zelena was dead. "That explains how I got here, but how did you know that Zelena was dead from so far away?"

"As a half-fairy of the most ancient bloodline," Ozma replies, "I have a connection to this land and to its people, of which Zelena is – was – a part. To a very small degree, I feel the birth of each spirit in Oz as well as those that arrive by supernatural means. Unfortunately, I am also as aware of each death."

"That must be stressful. And depressing."

Ozma nods. "I must admit that it was overwhelming at first when I made the connection as to what those feelings were related, as I was only a young girl at the time. I have since come to treasure the intimate connection I share with my people, though it can be sorely vexing at times."

"Even with those of my sister's persuasion?" Regina asks, not able imagine having so deep a connection with someone so evil, and that includes herself.

"Even then," says Ozma, a beatific smile on her face. "All life is precious, and therefore worth remembering. But that does not mean all life must be protected. Some such as Zelena, and yourself at one time, choose to abuse their gift by taking the lives of innocents, thus forfeiting any right to exist by a law greater than that of any human, wizard, fairy, or god. The universe itself demands balance, and it has its ways of preserving it, which Zelena has now discovered. Evil will never be permitted to reign forever. Eventually punishment is always doled out upon the wicked."

Regina winces, unable to hide her shame at being rightfully lumped in with mass murderers like her sister. Once, she too was a remorseless killer, and had more blood on her hands than she could ever wash away. More than Zelena, even. Her sister was right to point that out and she was wrong to believe their differences were ever more than merely on the surface.

"Do you think that's why this happened to Red?" she asks, plaintive in tone and demeanor. "That I'm correct to believe she is being made to pay for my sins?"

"I wish I could offer you some consolation about that, but I cannot," Ozma answers bluntly, her face grave with the weight of the subject. "I simply do not know. Is it possible that what happened to your beloved is related to your past? Yes. Of course it is. It would be disingenuous of me to suggest otherwise. And who is to say that there won't be more suffering ahead for the two of you? Your past misdeeds are, by your own admission, terrible and numerous beyond reckoning. For how many the bill will come due before the end, I dare not guess. Perhaps all. Perhaps none. Perhaps somewhere in between."

Regina heart thuds at the last sentence, her worst fears seeming to have been confirmed. But then Ozma draws a deep breath and smooths her features into a fondness for Regina that she does not bother to hide.

"I do not say this to hurt you, Regina," she then says, "but rather to inform you that the universe is a strange place. Much stranger than I had ever imagined it to be before I met you. Your darkness is undeniable, yet you wield white magic also and have found True Love in spite of the deep corruption your heart has known. You are severe but kind, hateful but loving, an enemy without fear or remorse but a friend willing to sacrifice selflessly. In a burst of purple smoke you landed upon my front lawn and proceeded to upend my understanding of the ways of the cosmos, for you are a living and breathing paradox that I cannot account for, and a walking contradiction for which I have no explanation.

"So perhaps, just perhaps, the universe is permitting someone like you to exist as a way of informing us lesser beings that even it's own supremely grand laws are not above reproach or incapable of being bent. Whatever the case may be, I'm just glad to have met you, and to have made a friend of you."

"As am I, Ozma," Regina replies around a lump in her throat that appeared all of the sudden. "More than I can say."

In the decades to come, that little speech of Ozma's will be one Regina often looks back at and remembers as a turning point, a point in which she finally came to terms with the greater meaning of her life, with the purpose of her continued existence after so much tragedy had been visited upon her and after she had in turn visited exponentially more upon others. After all, according to Ozma's cosmic math and Regina's own more logically based calculations, she should have suffered a similar – if not more gruesome – fate than her sister had. Yet she was the one to live through their duel. The universe, she concluded as Ozma had, was a mystery indeed, but it was a beautiful one for which she would never again forget to be thankful.

Regina startles a bit when Ozma reaches out to brush a finger down her jaw, but to her surprise, she relaxes into the touch, allowing it, and even cherishes the affection behind it. It seems absurd and yet so right to have become so attached to the woman in so short a time. Whether it's Ozma's fairy blood or her awesome magic or her captivating charm at work, Regina can not tell. All she knows is that Ozma is someone that has become inexplicably precious to her, same as Dorothy, and she is loathe to part from either of them.

And yet she has to. She has a home waiting for her, a wife who loves her more than anything in the world, a father she adores, and a kingdom to run that she has bled for. She wants to be back with them with a keen desperation that clenches at her heart like a pair of pliers. Yet at the same time she doesn't want to lose what she has found here in this rustic little cabin. Being caught between those warring desires is more than a little disconcerting.

"I know what you're thinking right now," Ozma then says, wearing a knowing look.

Regina quirks a sable brow. "Is that so?"

" _Mmmhmm_ ," Ozma hums, eyes glimmering brilliantly in the candlelight. "There is no need for you to worry about losing our friendship. What was planted here will soon sprout and will eventually grow into a beautiful tree under whose shade we shall all warmly commiserate."

Regina gasps at the accurate deduction, and is only able to squeeze Ozma's hand in response to the swell of love she is feeling. Fairy Queen of Oz may she be, but Regina prefers Ozma's designation to simply be her friend.

"How can you be certain? Our worlds are so far apart," she says, feeling caught between her love for Ozma and Dorothy and the fact that travel between worlds is not quite a common occurrence.

"That is true," Ozma concedes, and then counters with, "and yet I happen to possess a set of slippers that will allow me to traverse realms at will, bringing any who make contact with my person along for the ride. Likewise, I believe you are acquainted with a man with a certain hat of exceedingly peculiar but valuable properties."

"Who hates me," Regina says, chagrined that she alone is the reason Jefferson hates her. No one else is to blame for her betrayal, and Jefferson is perfectly justified to feel as he does. "And not without reason," she adds. "I abandoned him in Wonderland once, where he fell victim to my mother. A fate I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy."

Ozma gives Regina a conspiratorial smile and then leans in to stage whisper. "In my experience, much bitterness can be assuaged by a little stroking of the ego and an enticing enough reward." She then leans back, smile still in place. "Perhaps with the right incentive this Jefferson could be persuaded to...come to terms with your transgression. A parcel of land and a minor title perhaps?"

Regina smirks at the unexpectedly sly woman. "Why, Ozma, how perfectly sublime a suggestion."

Ozma shrugs. "I may be half-fairy but I am also a Queen. And although Dorothy believes me to be the pinnacle of goodness, I have my fair share of naysayers who prickle my good conscience and test my abundant patience. Dealing with them requires a certain level of diplomacy that demands me to set aside my feelings for the sake of the common good of my people, and that is something I am not above asking of them as well. In court, _quid pro quo_ goes a long way. Wouldn't you agree?"

Regina does think so, and tells Ozma likewise. "Without enough oil to keep the various pieces lubricated," she then adds, "the machinery of high society will grind to a halt. Pretentious and annoying as they are, the nobles are a necessary evil. Accommodating them where possible is in the best interest of any kingdom."

"Quite so," agrees Ozma, who gives Regina's hand one last squeeze before withdrawing to stand from her chair. "And speaking of kingdoms," she continues after brushing a hand down her skirt, "I believe there is one missing their Queen. Let me fetch Dorothy and Snow, then we can be off."

Regina nods, and then watches as Ozma departs from the cabin. When she returns a few minutes later, she is flushed with indignation, and Regina can hear mirthful noise filtering in through the door.

"I would commend you for your aim, but I think you're in trouble, my friend," she hears Snow's voice state seconds before Ozma shows up in the doorway. There are fresh flakes of snow in her blonde hair and upon shoulders and her nose and cheeks are already rosy from the cold.

She is followed in through the door by Dorothy, who is wearing a smug grin as she replies, "I'll have you know I stay in trouble." She then throws a saucy wink at Ozma, who huffs and crosses her arms over her chest.

"Is there any wonder why?" says Ozma, frowning dramatically. "This will cost you, Dorothy Gale. You mark my words, at some indeterminate time in the future, I will have my revenge."

"Oh, bah," Dorothy scoffs playfully as she shuffles toward Ozma. Fondness for the blonde half-fairy is in her every micro-expression, from the way her blue eyes are dancing and crinkled at the edges and by the slight upturn of her lips that Regina can tell is a full blown smile waiting for permission to manifest itself. "It was just one harmless snowball. You've done far worse to me. Remember that time you made a rain cloud follow me around for an entire day because I was in a bad mood and snapped at you for being so chirpy?"

"That's hardly the point," Ozma counters, softening some at Dorothy's adoring gaze. "I am a Queen in the presence of two other Queens. Such behavior is uncouth."

Regina winces at that word, thinking of how much Red hates it. It is a favorite disparagement among the nobles, along with other far more crass descriptions spoken when they think neither of them are listening. But Dorothy does not seem to mind it at all.

"I'm a farm girl," Dorothy replies with a dismissive shrug. "Always will be. People are going disapprove of me as an appropriate choice for you, so you may as well get used to that if we're going to be together once you resume your rightful place upon the throne."

With a sigh, Ozma finally drops her defensive posture, looking a bit ashamed at her behavior. This particular sore spot between them is further reinforcement for Regina of just how much she and Red have in common with this otherworldly couple.

"You know that station doesn't matter to me," Ozma then says, brushing a hand through Dorothy's brown hair and then allowing it slide down to cup her strong jaw. "I love you just as you are, and so do the people. The nobles can go wrestle a kalidah if they have any objections."

"What's a kalidah?" Snow interjects, curiosity rolling off of her in waves. After Dorothy explains that they are, " _huge and monstrous beasts with bodies like bears and heads like tigers,_ " Snow adopts an owl like expression. "Oh," she breathes out, lips turning down into a petulant frown. "Well, I'm glad we didn't run into any of those. Tigers are neat, but I don't like bears. They chase the fish away and steal all the honey. So rude..."

At the unexpected response, Regina peers at Snow strangely before turning a wry smile over to Ozma and Dorothy, who each break out into smiles of their own. And just like that, any remaining tension is broken. They pass the next half hour of Regina's brief yet entirely too long convalescence in easy conversation until soon enough it is time for her and Snow to leave.

Before departing, Ozma announces that she needs to take a walk while the two natives of Misthaven prepare themselves to journey back to the crossroads where they entered Oz. In all, she is gone nearly an hour, at the end of which Dorothy looks ready to form an official search posse as if Ozma has gone missing. The idea is absurd considering Ozma's nearly limitless power, but the concern is nonetheless understandable. Love makes people irrational. Even Queens.

As it is, Ozma returns before Dorothy heads out into the falling snow to retrieve her. When she walks back in the door she is wearing a mysterious expression that Regina wants to question. But she is far too aware of the passage of each minute to care much. Her primary motivation is getting back home to her wife.

"Is everyone ready to leave?" Ozma asks a few minutes later when everyone is sitting around the kitchen table.

Fond memories of their breakfast that morning wash over Regina, and she wishes that she had the time to share another meal with her friends. Thoughts of Red preclude such delays, however, for every moment Regina wastes in Oz, Red is held captive in a hellish prison, unable to escape as her body is being ravaged by a curse that Regina is indirectly responsible for.

"I'm ready," she replies, firm in an insistence that Snow also echoes.

"Very well then," says Ozma, and then rises to stand. When everyone is upright along with her, she casts a furtive glance toward Regina.

"Something else on your mind?" she asks, seeing Ozma hesitate to speak whatever it is currently bothering her.

Ozma clears her throat then sheepishly tugs at her lip with her teeth. "I might have neglected to inform you that time passes differently here in my little magical bubble than for the outside world."

Regina's eyes widen and her heart begins to race at the implications. "What? Are you saying we haven't just been in Oz two days?" When Ozma nods, a blush coloring her cheeks, Regina cuts her eyes over at Dorothy, who looks equally guilty. "You knew about this, too?"

"Yes, I did," says Dorothy, sounding truly repentant. "It was my idea not to tell you."

Regina reels back, unable to disguise how hurt she is. Even Snow seems shocked their new friends had declined to inform them of this vital information.

"What? Why? Why wouldn't you tell me about this?" she asks, nothing that Snow remains stiff and silent as Dorothy worries her hands together at her waist.

"As stressed out as you already were over your wife's condition," Dorothy replies, voice as strained as her body language, "and as exhausted as we all were, we agreed it would do no good for you to know you would be away a little bit longer than you originally thought."

The reasoning is not lacking merit. She had drained much of her energy teleporting them all to the cabin as penetrating such a spell that protects this place requires far more effort. Secondly, there is no denying how stressed she has been. Her levels have, since Red bit into that damn apple, been off the charts. And they've only been rapidly increasing with as more distance separated her from her wife who is languishing though an inescapable hell back home. Making plans under such conditions is not advisable or conducive to success. If the positions were reversed, she would have made the very same decision as Dorothy.

Betrayal, however, is blinding her to those salient facts. "And how much longer have we been here, if it's not too _impolite_ for me to ask?" she retorts, seething. "Perhaps I ought to remain ignorant if you're all so convinced of my fragility!"

Sensing Regina's mounting rage, Dorothy adopts a nonthreatening posture meant to deflect aggression. "It wasn't like that, I swear. Ozma wanted to tell you but I encouraged her to keep the secret for your sake. You were already under too much pressure as it is..."

"Worried I might snap, _hmm_?" Regina fills in the blanks, no less furious than she was ten seconds ago. Would everyone she will ever meet assume the worst of her? "Concerned that I might let the frothing beast out of her cage to go on a little rampage? Or maybe you were afraid that I would kill my sister only to replace her as your totalitarian oppressor?"

Dorothy looks absolutely stricken at that conclusion. "No! I was worried you would lack a clear mind to face Zelena. You have lost an extra day, two at most, and that's not enough for you to imperil your own life in a needlessly hasty bid to obtain the cure."

Unable to stomach any more excuses, Regina explodes. "Forgive me if I am offended at being lied to! At my wife's life being so flippantly toyed with because you want to control me!"

"Well," Dorothy replies, her meekness evaporating in an instant in favor of her own indignation, "forgive me if I actually care about your well-being! You're my friend. The thought of you storming off to get yourself killed made me sick to my stomach. What else was I supposed to do?"

"I don't know...maybe trust me to not be an impulsive imbecile who would rush off in a panic to confront the most powerful sorceress I've ever met who just so happens to be my long-lost half-sister who hates me for no good reason?"

The second the last words of that diatribe escape her lips, she realizes what she's just done. Namely, all but confirmed Dorothy had made the right decision.

 _Look how easy it was for you to fly off the handle_ , her internal Red says, choosing now of all times to make a reappearance. _I love you, hon, but you are a loose canon under normal circumstances. Imagine how you would have reacted if Dorothy told you about this right away._

 _But they cost me an entire day, maybe two!_ she laments. Imaginary Red gives her a look just like the real one for which she needs no interpreter to translate. Just as she always does when someone has offended her, even if that someone was well-intentioned like Dorothy, she is clinging to her anger like an impertinent child. She would be ashamed of herself if she wasn't so upset she can hardly see straight. Unwilling to admit she overreacted, she plows ahead with her imaginary rant, _And what if that was the difference between me saving you and coming home with the cure only to discover I'm too late and you're already dead?_

As if privy to her thoughts and able to see the invisible knowing smile that spreads across invisible Red's lips, Dorothy says, "Do you see now why I delayed the information? Believe me, I would have informed you immediately if I thought for a second withholding it was the difference between your wife living and dying. I'm a pragmatist but I'm not cruel. I would never do that to you."

"How am I supposed to believe that?" Regina asks, her rage draining out of her unexpectedly. "You lied to me. Friends don't lie to each other."

"They do if it's to keep their friend alive," Snow says, picking the worst moment to interject. It seems that right now both of them are behaving according to form. When Regina starts to argue, she holds up a hand to stop her. "I know. You're mad. You have every right to be. I'm a little mad, too, if I'm being honest. I missed an extra day or two of my daughter's life. But that's a price I'll pay every time if it means you're still here."

Regina hardly knows what to say to that. It's one thing for Dorothy and Ozma to make excuses. It is another for Snow to accept a real, tangible loss as a willing sacrifice on her behalf. There is little Snow treasures more than her daughter. In the letters she has written to Red since Emma's birth, she often waxes poetic about how each day, each hour, and each second with Emma is a gift she wouldn't trade for all the world. For her to give one up for a woman she should by all accounts hate? It's an expression of love and compassion Regina can hardly fathom, not to mention process in such a presently volatile environment.

No one besides Daniel, her father, and Red have ever loved her that much. It's not easy to realize Snow does and far harder to accept the distinct probability that she always has. The implications are life-altering. When she betrayed her step-daughter in one of the worst ways possible, she was betraying a girl whose love – while blind and a little selfish – was likely every bit as pure as her namesake. And if Snow can forgive such heinous treachery, who is she to deny it to Ozma and Dorothy for an infinitesimally lesser transgression? It's a question she doesn't like the answer to.

But the bigger question she has to answer for herself in this moment is simple and yet oh-so-complex. Is she still the same woman she was when Snow turned eighteen or is she the woman Red sees when looking at her through those perceptive green eyes?

"Look," Dorothy then says, "stay angry at me as long as you like. I'd do what I did again because Snow is right. I'd rather you be alive to hate me than be another friend I have to mourn."

"I don't hate you," Regina says, tears pricking at her eyes as the answer to her complicated question registers in her heart. "I don't. I-I understand. I don't like it but I understand. You probably saved my life. It's just...I'm just...it's hard for me to let go of things like this. I've made a reputation of grudge-holding, you know."

Evidently bolstered by the admission, Dorothy slinks forward and risks grasping for Regina's hands. When the gesture is not refused, she says, "I hope it doesn't come to that and that you'll forgive me eventually. I only had your best interest at heart."

"Yes, and I have Red's," Regina says, still a bit testy even after relinquishing most of her anger.

"Do you remember my dream the other night?" Snow says. Regina nods reluctantly. "To be sure Red was still alive, I laid down to sleep while you were recovering. I wasn't sure if I'd see her again. Usually I don't go to the same place twice for months. But I went back to the same Burning Room she's in. I saw her again."

Regina perks up at that. "And? How is she?"

"Weaker, but she is still alive."

Nodding, Regina takes a calming breath. Holding on to this sense of betrayal is doing her no favors, especially when she can see the wisdom in Dorothy's lie of omission.

"Then we must hurry," she says, content to leave her anger behind. Not just for Red's sake, but for the sake of her friendship with Dorothy and Ozma. She cares too much about them both to hold this against them forever.

"Yes, you must," Ozma says. "Though I am loathe to part from you on such poor terms."

Regina sighs, hating how Ozma's sad tone pricked at her conscience. She really is going soft.

"We aren't on poor terms, Ozma," she says, hoping her earnestness is detectable. "I was upset, and for good reason. That said, I can see now that withholding that information from me was in my best interest. I am stubborn and often rash, but I am slowly learning to appreciate the difference between malicious intervention and that which is necessitated by affection. Now that the fog of anger has faded, I recognize what you and Dorothy did was purely out of love. Did it hurt me? Yes, it did. But our friendship is not in jeopardy. Just...don't ever lie to me like that again."

"Believe me, we won't," says Dorothy, clearly grateful for being forgiven.

Regina gives her a brief smile before rubbing her hands together. She has important things to do and less time than she would like in which to do them. "Good," she says. "Then we should be off. I've lingered here long enough. I must get back home to Red."

"As you wish," replies Ozma, who then holds out her hand, one to Dorothy to her right and one to Snow on her left. "Everyone join hands and I will magick us to the crossroads."

When Snow reaches out her hand, Dorothy following suit, Regina takes their proffered appendages and then gives a nod of readiness to Ozma. The fairy Queen of Oz takes a deep breath and then closes her eyes. A heartbeat later, a burst of brilliant jade light emanates from within her being, suffusing the entire cabin its homely warmth and bright intensity. Regina then hears a great whooshing sound as reality begins to unravel. An instant later, the swirling vortex of what used to be the cabin is replaced by a familiar sight. They have arrived at the crossroads.

Regina can hardly contain her excitement. She is almost home.


	32. Goodbye is a Prelude to Hello

****Standard Disclaimer** : **These lovely characters ain't mine, I just play with them gently. Please don't sue me. The mistakes are mine, though.

* * *

 **Chapter** **31** – Goodbye is a Prelude to Hello

For a few seconds after arriving at the crossroads, the full circle of her journey now completed, Regina gapes in awe at Ozma. Their earlier misunderstanding is all but forgotten. Ozma returns a smile of her own, aware of how impressed she is by the transportation spell and how none of them show a single symptom of aftereffects. Even Dorothy, who has proven susceptible to such magic, is not the least bit queasy.

What's more, the feeling of Ozma's magic encompassing and suffusing her entire being was so wonderful, so comforting and inviting and friendly that she can barely make heads or tails of it. Dark Magic has a seductive pull to it, not unlike illicit substances, while True Love magic is joyfully rapturous. Ozma's, though, is unlike anything she has ever experienced in her life. It is overwhelming yet sublime, intoxicating yet sobering, frightening yet comforting. In other words, it is simply marvelous.

For a moment the two friends are lost in their mutual appreciation. But then an evening lark chirps in the near distance, happier than any bird has any right to be, and it reminds Regina of where they are and of the fact that the hour is growing late. The sun is low in the sky as evening transitions into night, and in the distance, she can see that the faint lights of the Emerald City are more vibrant than they were the first time she saw them from here. Where once it was merely a speck of dull green light, now it is glowing under a large translucent green sphere with shafts of vertical light shooting into the sky before passing out of sight into the atmosphere that are the exact same color as Ozma's magic. There is no avoiding the correlation. Ozma's return has breathed life into Oz – into the grass which is greener, the wildlife that is more jubilant, and the trees which are fuller and stouter somehow, and into the city itself which seems vibrant in a way it was not before.

Again Regina gazes at Ozma, who is still smiling at her while Dorothy and Snow chat about something nearby. She can feel Ozma's love for her pouring out of the tall and angelic woman, who in that moment is so lovely and pure and wonderful that Regina is seized by a feeling of devotion only exceeded by that she feels for her True Love. Such is the potency of this feeling that if it were possible, she would never leave Oz, if only so she could remain close to Ozma.

"Regina, are you coming?" Snow asks, breaking the spell between Regina and her half-fairy friend.

Regina clears her throat before answering. "Yes, yes," she says, and then surveys the surrounding area searching for a sign Jefferson, who she's told to remain nearby. She finds him seated not three hundred yards away, leaning against a nearby tree. Judging by the way his head is askew and his chin propped against his chest, he is fast asleep. Determined to leave at once, she almost starts to walk in his direction to shake him awake only to dismiss the idea of being nice upon remembering what he has.

An idea then pops into her head as to how to regain possession of her heart. With wicked smile upon her face, she lifts the pouch Ozma had returned to her up to her waist and then retrieves Jefferson's heart from it. She feels Snow stiffen at her side when she holds up to her lips.

"Regina..." Snow draws out from where she is standing with Ozma and Dorothy, clearly concerned by what is going to happen when she ought not be.

Ignoring her, Regina whispers into it, "Wake up, Jefferson."

In an instant, the hatter's eyes open. Bleary-eyed, he casts them about the area, and when they land on Regina holding his heart, she can see the horrified expression wash over him. He opens his mouth as if to shout protests or obscenities or some colorful combination of both, but she stops him with another whisper. "No talking. Stand up and come over here."

"What are you doing?" Snow then asks, stepping next to Regina. "You promised." Her eyes are pleading as if she believes Regina to on the cusp of crushing his heart. The notion is not completely without merit, but considering all they've been through and that they still need Jefferson, Snow's worry is absurd.

"I'm not going to do anything immoral, dear," Regina reassures, and then commands Jefferson to stop as he draws withing arms reach. She takes a step forward, his heart gleaming and pulsing in her hand. His eyes are trained on it. "Look at me," she then orders. Jefferson has no choice but to comply, and when his eyes meet hers, all she can see is desperation and half-crazed anger. "Calm down," she says to him, holding out his heart. "I have no intention of harming you." To prove that, she does not speak into his heart, but to him directly. "Before I replace your heart, I want you to return mine to me." Jefferson gives her a look that is very nearly murderous, and to a large degree she understands his rage. She cannot, however, take any chances with her heart. When he makes no move to do as she asked, she sighs. "Please don't make me force you."

Teeth gritted with what must be painful force, he reaches into the pouch she had given him and retrieves her heart. When he holds it out to her, she notes that little has changed in it save for a new coin-sized patch of crimson glowing upon the base.

She extends her free hand palm up. "Place it gently in my hand."

Rather than fight her, he does as she asks, and the second her heart is in her hand, Regina shoves it back into her chest. Reunited with her heart, she feels a torrential swell of so many disparate but extreme emotions, preeminent among them her love for Red, that her knees nearly buckle – she hadn't been expecting so visceral a reaction considering how little feeling she'd lost upon removing it.

"Are you okay?" Dorothy asks, having spotted Regina's slight sway. Snow and Ozma had missed it as they watched Jefferson to make sure he did not make any kind of threatening movements.

"Thank you for asking, but I'm fine, dear," Regina answers with a slightly discomforted smile. She then turns back to Jefferson. "And now, as promised..." Without any warning whatsoever, she plunges the hand holding his heart back into his chest and replaces it.

Jefferson lurches violently on both impact and withdrawal, and rubs at his chest once Regina has stepped back. "That was totally unnecessary," he growls.

"Was it?" she poses, brow quirked. "Or were you not entertaining thoughts of controlling me once I returned." He flushes again, but not in anger. "As I thought. Ordinarily, I would be incensed at such impudence. Fortunately for you, I require haste getting back home. I assume since you have a daughter waiting for you, that would be to your liking as well. Or am I wrong?"

"No, you're not," he sighs, still rubbing at his chest. "Let's just get this over with so I can get back to Grace and try to forget about this damn hat for a while."

"A noble pursuit," says Regina, "but keep it handy in case there is need for it again. You are too valuable to retire just yet."

Jefferson scowls in her direction. "I don't work for you, Regina, and I sure as hell don't trust you. Why would I help you again after that little stunt you just pulled?"

Regina tuts, one corner of her lips turned up. "I should think it obvious. I could have done so much worse. I had you at my beck and call, and yet all I did was return what belonged to you after you did the same for me. I honored our agreement, just with some added...flair. And don't forget that I entrusted you with my heart in the first place." He beings to reply, but she holds up a hand to stop him. After a glance at Ozma, who smiles and nods, she then says, "If that, however, is not reason enough for you, perhaps I can arrange something more material to secure your services in the future."

Jefferson's eyes narrow at that. "Are you trying to bribe me?"

Regina laughs a moment before shaking her head. "No, Jefferson, I'm trying to promote you. You said quite accurately that you do not work for me. Well, I would like to amend that, and as it just so happens, the position comes with benefits."

"Such as?" Although his visage remains clouded with skepticism, his interest is evident in his tone.

Regina grins. _Gotcha,_ she thinks, thanking Ozma for her advice. Out loud, she pitches her offer, "A parcel of land of your choosing, the size of which is open to later negotiation, and a minor title should that be of interest to you. Take one, take both. The choice is yours."

After a moment of contemplation during which Regina is pleased to see that he is genuinely interested in her offer, Jefferson says, "I'll think about it."

"You do that," Regina replies, "but don't take too long. I am not a patient woman."

"I won't."

"Good. Now that we have we've settled that, it's time for us to return home."

Jefferson makes a noise of acquiescence before bowing, somewhat condescending in the way he delivers it, but still respectful enough that Regina lets the impudence slide. For now. "I'll go get my hat," he then says, and turns away.

As Jefferson walks off toward the forest in the near distance, Regina turns back to her friends. Dorothy and Ozma as standing side-by-side, hands entwined between them, shoulders touching lightly. They are both fighting tears, and seeing them so emotional makes Regina emotional as well. Tears well up in her eyes as well, knowing that this parting will see them sundered for a long while.

"I don't know what to say to the two of you," she begins, voice choked. She addresses Dorothy first. "You saved our lives back in the Emerald City and then asked for nothing in return. Later, you took an arrow meant for me, saving my life yet again. You even went so far as to protect me from my own foolish recklessness, chancing my ire to save me a third time. And as if that was not enough, you stood with me against my sister, knowing full well the danger you were placing yourself in. Your bravery is an inspiration. I owe you a debt I can never repay."

Dorothy blushes to the roots of her hair under such praise. "You owe me nothing," she replies in her modest and forthright way as a tear leaks down her sculpted cheek. "I saved your life because it was the right thing to do, and you repaid me a thousand fold by defeating the Wicked Witch. You have freed our people from her unholy reign. It is us who owe you a debt."

Unaccustomed to blushing, Regina shifts nervously for a moment before settling herself enough to respond. "Let us consider our debts canceled out then."

Dorothy smiles at that. "Works for me, my friend."

Regina returns the brunette warrior's smile. "Thank you for that, Dorothy...for being my friend, that is. I don't have many of those."

"Well, you've made two here in Oz." The sincerity of Dorothy's declaration stirs Regina's heart, and she is doubly affected when Ozma adds, "Well said, my love."

Regina directs her gaze to Ozma, her fellow Queen, a woman she feels such a kindred spirit for that it is hard to describe. "And to you, my dear Queen Ozma," she says, "I give thanks for your hospitality. You took Snow and I in when you did not have to. Your graciousness is equaled only by your beauty, and that is indeed unrivaled save for my own personal biases. I have delighted in your company, particularly when you and Dorothy are bantering like an old married couple, which made me feel close to Red even though we are worlds apart. Without thought for yourself, you restored me with your own energy simply because you knew how important it is for me to return home expeditiously. I wish there was a better way with which to convey my gratitude than this inadequate speech."

Ozma wipes a tear from her eye as she sniffles. "Further thanks is unnecessary. You are not alone in your feelings. I, too, have been assuaged by your presence. The two of you brought a feeling of family to our little home that I think Dorothy will agree has been been lacking," Dorothy nods in agreement with her assumption, "though we were ignorant of it until your arrival. I have had no visitors to my cabin except for Dorothy since Zelena took the Emerald City and drove me into hiding, and it did grow lonely out here while she spent that year...away."

Ozma still looks disconcerted by what Dorothy endured in Zelena's clutches, and Regina sympathizes with her. She can't imagine how she would feel if someone did to Red what Zelena did to Dorothy. She knows at Ozma is strong, though, and that she and Dorothy will help each other through their pain, just as Regina knows she and Red will.

"Would that I could bottle up the warmth and camaraderie we have shared," Ozma continues. "But alas, I cannot. I will have to settle for the precious memories left behind and anticipate the promise of many future gatherings between us and our families."

"Hopefully those reunions will happen sooner rather than later," Snow says, to which all echo enthusiastic agreement.

"Now, before you depart," Ozma then says, "I have prepared something for both of you. A gift, really, or a token of our mutual affection," she amends, gesturing for Snow to stand next to Regina. Once the diminutive former bandit has drawn up to Regina's side, Ozma snaps her fingers. Two keys crested with her personal sigil appear in her hands, gilded in gold and gleaming in the sunlight afternoon sunlight. She approaches, Dorothy following along still holding her hand, and extends the keys out toward them.

"These are the keys to the Emerald City itself," she then explains. "They will open any door within it's walls. I, Ozma, Queen of Oz, bestow them upon you as an offering of friendship, not only to the two heroes who saved our land from the Wicked Witch, but who are as dear to my heart as any other, save one." She smiles at Dorothy, who smiles back at her. "They may also serve as the symbol of an alliance between our kingdoms _should_ _that be of interest_ to either of you." Ozma winks at Regina, showing that she had chosen her some of words purposefully as a play on what she'd said to Jefferson.

Regina chuckles, but sobers quickly at the gravity of Ozma's offer. "I accept your offer on behalf of Misthaven," she says, and after a respectful curtsy and a bow of her head, takes one of the proffered keys.

"I accept as well," follows Snow. Once she had repeated the proper deference to Ozma, she takes the remaining key, and then adds, "I will, of course, have to ratify our alliance with my council first, but I see no reason why any should object when I inform them of what happened here."

"Of course," replies Ozma. "I also will have to follow protocol. It is but a formality, however."

"As it is it for me," adds Regina. "I daresay the council will accede without protest. After what I've been through the past week, they'll know better than to oppose me."

Snow nods fervently. "Exactly. Nobles are greedy, not stupid." She then gestures toward Ozma and Dorothy. "I know we've only known one another a little over a day, but what we have formed here goes beyond the scope of kingdoms and monarchs and nobles. Our hearts have already ratified the special bond we built here in so short a time. No matter what, the two of you have earned my personal loyalty and friendship."

"I heartily concur," Regina confirms, impressed by Snow's very adequate response.

Just then, Ozma glances behind them, and Regina looks back over her shoulder to see Jefferson approaching with his hat in hand.

"Well," Ozma says in a forced tone that is falsely wistful, "I believe this is goodbye."

"Goodbye is merely a prelude for hello," Dorothy amends, giving Regina and Snow a watery smile. "Instead, let's say...farewell for now and may we meet again."

"May we meet again," Ozma echoes, eyes swimming with unshed tears.

Regina swallows around the lump in her throat, but manages to get out her own wishful oath that is proceeded by Snow's. "May we meet again."

"Alright," Jefferson then speaks up from behind them. "Let's get this show on the road." They turn to see his hat already on the ground.

When Snow and Regina reach Jefferson and his hat, they begin to jump in only to halt at Ozma's voice. She careens forward, waving a piece of parchement in her hand. "Wait!" she calls as she hurries to them, Dorothy once again following in her wake. When she reaches them, she thrusts the page toward Regina. "You'll need this once you get home."

Regina takes it and skims over the words on the page. Though they are written in a foreign tongue, the words jump out at her in a way that she is able to understand them. No doubt the effect is due to an enchantment Ozma has cast upon the paper. She glances up at her friend, appreciation shining in her eyes. "Thank you for this, Ozma," she breathes.

"What is it?" Snow asks, looking at the page curiously.

"It is the instructions for brewing the counteragent to nullify the reagent Zelena added to her curse," Ozma explains. "While Regina was asleep and I said I was going for a walk to clear my head, I was not exactly being honest. In truth, I magicked myself to the Emerald City and paid a visit to a certain wizard whose knowledge of chemistry made the reagent possible in the first place."

"Ozma!" Dorothy shouts in protest. "That was reckless! You should have taken one of us to guard you."

When Ozma starts to argue, Regina nods and speaks up. "I agree with Dorothy," she tells Ozma, who looks at her sporting a wounded expression of mock betrayal. Regina shrugs. "It was foolish to go alone, but that doesn't mean I'm not grateful. I am. I might have been fumbling around my chemistry books for days searching for a viable recipe had you not procured this for me."

"Which is why I did it," Ozma says, face grave. "There is not enough time for you to conduct such extensive research."

"What do you mean by that?" Snow asks, eyes suddenly wide and fearful.

"While I met with the wizard, he explained that the reagent Zelena used expedites the process of the curse. You must hurry, Regina. Your Red has only days to live, if that."

The news spurs Regina into immediate action. "Then we must depart at once." With one last glance at Ozma and Dorothy, who are urging her with their eyes to do what she must, she tells them, "I will see you both soon," and then she jumps headlong into the portal.

She does not bother waiting for Snow upon reaching the Hall of Doors, trusting that her companion will follow swiftly. Rather, she moves to stand before the door that will lead her back home to the Dark Palace.

As she waits those few seconds for Snow and Jefferson to arrive, she experiences a bout of anxiety that has her heart palpitating within her chest. After all of this, after nearly dying to Zelena, having to flee the Wheelers, being saved by Snow from certain death and then again by Dorothy, she is on the home stretch now. Red waits just beyond the door. And yet Regina can only stress over what she'll find when she arrives.

Ozma's parting declaration lingers in her mind. If the wizard was correct in predicting how much time Red has left, there should be enough for her to make the potion. But at the same time, she has received an estimate for Red's demise from one incredibly knowledgeable source already. Few know more about curses then the Dark One, and he had been wrong. Or he lied to her. Whatever the case, Regina cannot help but worry about whether the wizard's predictions will hold true. After all, he is purportedly a chemist of great skill and renown, but she has heard nothing of his knowledge of magic. So while it is possible Red has days yet, she may also have more or less, and it is the latter that terrifies her straight past sensible reaction and out upon the bleeding precipice of panic.

A moment later Snow arrives in the Hall, and Jefferson right behind her, hat in hand, so Regina cannot stew for long on her trepidation.

"After you," she tells Jefferson, who nods curtly, opens the door and then passes though. Regina next gestures for Snow to step through.

Snow dutifully obeys, but pauses to touch Regina's arm at the elbow. "She'll be okay," she says in that sunny way of her. "Have faith."

It is startling to Regina how easily Snow is able to read her now when she used to remain so very ignorant. But then again, she was a child then and is a Queen now. Though her personality has not changed, there is a vast gulf of experience between the woman Snow became and the girl she was, and with that experience has come an intuitiveness that she'd once lacked.

Regina nods tightly, throat constricted as she replies, "I'm trying."

With a final squeeze to Regina's elbow, Snow smiles and then heads to the door and steps through it. Regina does not linger, following immediately behind.

In seconds, she is back in the courtyard from which she had departed two days ago with Snow and Jefferson, and as Regina takes in the hellish scene around her, a cold chill runs up her spine. This is not the pristine courtyard she had left behind. Something terrible has happened, and she is almost afraid to find out what.


	33. A Rude Welcome

**Standard Disclaimer** : These lovely characters ain't mine, I just play with them gently. Please don't sue me. The mistakes are mine, though.

* * *

 **Chapter 28** – A Rude Welcome

Everywhere Regina looks, all she sees is death. Fresh, too, judging by the pallor of the slain and the lack of bloat that ensues in the hours after death. For days she has been absent and this is what happens to her kingdom?

Bodies are strewn about the courtyard, piled four deep in some places, soaking the ground and staining the stones a sickly burgundy. More than half the casualties are recognizably from the Citadel's garrison. Some she even identifies as members of her personal guard. Their jet black plate mail, plumed helmets, and exclusive ebonsteel blades are unmistakable. The fallen of both sides have been gathered into neat lines for identification and subsequent disposal. While the invaders have been left to rot under the blazing sun until emergency triage is over, friendly fatalities have been given the proper respect of cover.

The stench of death permeates the air so thickly she almost has to cover her nose. It's been a long time since she was present at the site of a significant battle, of which this certainly qualifies. Clearly the fighting was particularly vicious here. There is evidence of men being trampled to death along with grotesque amounts of severed limbs and heads heaped in grisly piles in the southwest corner of the courtyard. The carnage ends just short of the primary palace entrance, which clogs Regina's throat with bile. The enemy had almost made it inside.

Had that happened, all would have been lost. Every servant would have been slaughtered where they stood and every noble rounded up to be dispensed with at the victor's leisure. The enemy commander and his most trusted squad would have immediately searched out the Royal Quarter's to claim the Queen for potential ransom. Or worse. Upon finding Red incapacitated, the unspeakable might very well have occurred.

Noble women are not always afforded the dignity of capture without the brutes who took them hostage raping them repeatedly. Spoils of war, those uncivilized cretins will claim as they take their turns ravaging innocent maidens and desperate mothers alike, none of whom are half as beautiful as Red. Slaves to their lust have enough problem controlling themselves in formal settings around Misthaven's junior Queen.

Regina had just thought she had it bad dealing with the unwelcome leers and unsubtle advances of drunken noblemen, and some women as well, who lost further track of their inhibitions with each sip of wine. She'd grown up being objectified and in a sense gotten used to it. Not that it didn't bother her later on. It did, she just became better equipped at hiding her disgust.

Red, on the other hand, is undressed by roving eyes with a vulgarity and regularity that makes Regina as sick as it does enraged. As a peasant in her famous corset and skirts Red always was the most attractive woman in any room, which isn't easy for a vain person like Regina to admit. Gussied up like a proper royal, with her hair intricately styled, arrayed in clothes designed to cling to her lithe frame, and her face perfectly made up to accentuate features that don't need a lot of help to mesmerize the weak of constitution? Well, that is a recipe for disrupting the conversations and general adherence to manners at any table. More than once upon entering a crowded room with her wife, she's had to flash warning glares at those less capable of subtlety and make overt displays of possession for those more crafty at hiding their secret desire to defile Misthaven's newest, most glorious and deceptively delicate flower. Red doesn't appreciate having to submit to Regina's purposeful pawing, but she does so out of necessity. She isn't ignorant to what those slovenly, indecent pigs – male and female alike – are doing to her within the protected confines of their depraved minds.

What, then, might a bunch of half-crazed soldiers who have abandoned all semblance of morality do to Red knowing she is helpless to fend off their animalistic aggression? Would there even be anything left of her to save – physically, mentally, or emotionally – if she was denied the mercy of a quick death? Regina's stomach curls at the thought, bile climbing the column of her esophagus before stalling at the back of her throat. Thankfully she doesn't have to entertain such horrific scenarios any further. Her forces had done their jobs and stopped the onslaught before it reached their incapacitated Queen. For that, both the living and the dead have earned her eternal gratitude.

Beside her, Snow stands stiffly, pale and fraught with similar concerns for her husband and best friend. Charming is a handsome fellow, after all, and soldiers unleashed from the chokers that keep their indecencies at bay aren't quite as discriminating. She starts to ask if Snow is alright only to be interrupted by an arrival to the courtyard. Stepping through the gate separating it from the lower circle of the citadel is Charming, and as he stalks toward them, he is flanked by Captain Rodrigo and Mulan. All appear battle weary, clothing torn and stained red in various places, as they converse among themselves.

So engrossed are the three in their deliberations that they do not notice Regina and Snow with Jefferson in the courtyard until Snow cries out for her husband. At the sound of her voice, Charming startles and his visage brightens as if the clouds have rolled back and the sun has banished the darkness forever. It is the look of True Love, one that is not as unpalatable for Regina to witness as it once was when she wears it nearly every time she sees Red.

"Snow!" Charming cries out just as his wife had, and rushes toward her, heedless of the impropriety and equally so of their audience.

When Snow meets him halfway, they seamlessly mesh into a passionate kiss. Regina actually smiles at the sappy display. Strangely enough, she is happy for Snow. With all they have been through together, she feels closer to her fellow monarch now. Not in the way she had when she'd saved a panicky ten year old from a runaway horse, to be sure, but close just the same. There is an even playing field between them now that they are equals; one where, with time, they might learn how to accept one another as not only adventuring companions but as friends.

It is only when the Charmings break apart that Regina decides to rain on their parade. "King David," she greets. "Not that I am displeased to see you considering the circumstances," she then waves at the scene of butchery all around her, "but what the _hell_ happened here?"

Now disentangled from Snow, he breathes a weary sighs. "Apparently the witch who cursed Red recruited an ally while she was in our world," he explains. "I'm not really surprised that old bastard George threw his lot in with her and was able to scrape up a somewhat sizable army. A lot of them appear to be mercenaries. We estimated their force was twice as big as the one he attacked Abigail with. They arrived late yesterday afternoon, made camp, and then began their assault at dawn this morning."

"It was quite a spectacle," Mulan adds in her matter-of-fact, no nonsense way. "The flying monkeys were an interesting supplement to the enemy forces, who were decent fighters and well organized. But they were no match for our superior skill."

Mulan's abruptness is abrasive to some, but not Regina, who appreciates her efficiency. The woman is a warrior of unequaled skill and an asset to the army that she is extremely fortunate to have in her corner. And while Red's friendship played a large part in Mulan's decision to stick around after her journeys brought her to Misthaven, it was Regina who ultimately won her over by offering her a lucrative post as her personal military adviser. It is an offer she has not once regretted.

"We fought them off, mostly thanks to Mulan, here," Charming says, bumping shoulders with the tiny but deadly woman. Regina is surprised to see Mulan smile at the friendly gesture. Normally she rebuffs them with a dour grunt.

"Is that so?" Regina asks, giving Mulan a look that indicates she will be embarrassing the warrior with accolades later. When Mulan blushes and ducks her head, Regina grins.

Charming nods fervently. "We were getting trounced. They had driven us into the courtyard. Our backs were almost to the palace walls. I was about ready to give up hope when Mulan arrived with her forces. She single-handedly dispatched two dozen soldiers in the rear of their lines before they realized what was happening. We folded them up like a piece of parchment after that."

"I was only doing my duty," Mulan injects, cheeks a rosy red despite her tanned complexion. "But enough about me." She then gestures toward a window a story above, one Regina knows belongs to the Royal Guest Chambers where her wife currently is abed in the grips of a terrible curse. "I heard about what happened, Your Majesty. I suppose you'll be wanting to see to Red now. May I escort you to her?"

"You may," Regina nods, and then allows Mulan to fall in beside her as she makes her way toward the door way leading into the castle from the courtyard. With Snow and Charming trailing behind they make their way down the first hallway in silence before Regina speaks again. "Did George dare to show his cowardly face in person?" she inquires with a glance behind her shoulder at Charming.

"As a matter of fact he did," he replies, and Regina bristles internally. She has always hated that man. He is the embodiment of everything she hates about nobility. An elitist snob whose arrogant sense of entitlement is only rivaled by his gross ineptitude. "He is currently being held in the dungeons with the rest of the officers. The rabble have been disarmed and are being escorted to a temporary internment camp being hastily constructed nearby. We'll sort through them after more pressing matters have been dealt with. For now, they'll have food and shelter, which is more than they deserve."

"To say the least," Regina says, sighing at the work before her after Red is returned to health. It is going to be an official nightmare to process the captives and secure their release to the kingdoms from which they hail, but she supposes she can entrust much of that work to Mulan and Charming, who seem to have forged a bond in battle. "Very well. I will pay that conniving bastard a visit in the morning and see what he has to say for himself. But for now, I would have a moment alone with my wife," she then says, having arrived in the hallway leading to the Red's resting place as well as their chambers. Once standing before the door of the guest chambers, she adds, "I won't be long, so you can all wait here."

"Of course. Take all the time you need," says Snow with tender sympathy. Charming also voices his acceptance.

Regina reaches for the door handle to enter, but then a notable absence strikes her. "Where is Eugenia?" she asks Charming, referring of course to Red's grandmother.

"With all the wounded from the battle, she couldn't sit still," he tells her. "She went to help out in the infirmary and refuses to take a break. Your father is with her."

Regina sighs. "Of course she had to get involved. Well, see to it that she is relieved promptly, my father as well, irregardless of any protests. I want them both here when Red wakes up."

"I'll send for someone after we've all checked in on her," he replies, which is acceptable for Regina, so she nods before addressing Mulan.

"Will you stand guard for me, Mulan?" she then asks, knowing the request will be seen more as an honor to Mulan's warrior spirit than an order to be simply obeyed.

"It would be my honor, Your Majesty," Mulan nods, pride on her face as she takes her place beside the door to stand guard at full attention. Regina is glad her assessment of Mulan is correct, as it serves as proof that she knows Mulan beyond her capacity as Regina's primary adviser. Smiling at the woman who has become a friend that she truly cares about as a person, Regina grips Mulan by the elbow before opening the door and passing inside.

Upon entering the room, she closes the door behind her and takes a moment to gather herself. Leaning her head against the frame, she draws several shaky breaths. She is beyond elated to be back home with the ingredient needed to craft Red's cure in hand. At the same time, she is scared what she is about to see. Back in Oz, Snow's dream had weighed heavily on her mind, for in it, Snow had been made privy to Red's suffering in the Burning Room and had witnessed her in such a sad state that no amount of shouting and screaming could rouse her.

It takes nearly half a minute for Regina to work up the nerve to face reality. Once she does, she is greeted by a sight that steals the breath from her lungs. She gasps, knees weakening in dismay as she takes in Red's complexion. Her pale flesh is disturbingly wan, mottled with an array of ugly burns, and she appears fragile in a way that is contrary to her otherwise general hardiness. Her cheeks are hollowed, eyes gaunt, and she is flushed from neck to hairline with the burning intensity of a supernatural and insidious fever.

Fear taking over, Regina rushes to the bedside and falls down to the floor. Her knees land heavily on the unforgiving stone. She winces at the pain of the contact but otherwise dismisses her own discomfort as inconsequential in the light of Red's condition. It is far worse than she had anticipated.

She reaches out a hand and holds it beneath Red's nostrils, searching for an indicator that she still lives through the air exiting her lungs. Her own breath refuses to come until she feels a faint puff of warmth against her skin. Looking down at Red's blanket covered chest, she is able to make out slight movement as Red breathes, but it is evident by the stilted nature of the rise and fall of her chest that her lungs are now struggling to draw even faint wisps of vital air.

Tears pricking at her eyes, Regina brushes a hand over Red's hair, feeling that it is damp yet not matted. She makes a mental note to reward Iris and the other maids and nurses who have been caring for the Queen while she has been away, bathing her and washing her hair to ward off decay of her body as much as is in their power. Although a minor service in the grand scope of events, it is no less important to Regina that those in her employ are willing to go the extra mile for her wife, not only out of duty but because they love and respect Red for her own merits.

"Oh, my sweet angel," Regina then says around a hitched cry as she leans down to smother her wife's feverish face with kisses, raining them down as she speaks, first to Red's brows, then upon her temple, her forehead, her jaw, her nose, her cheeks, and at last, her semi-parched lips. "I'm sorry that it took me so very long. And I'm sorry that you've had to suffer so for crimes that were not your own. But I have what I need to make your cure, so just hang on for a few more hours. I will bring you back to me where you belong, _mi corazón_."

As a tear escapes her lids to roll a path down her cheek, Regina leans down to kiss Red again, lingering upon her lips as she bites back her sobs. She wants to collapse against Red and hold her shriveled form while she weeps until she is dry of tears, but she does not have that kind of time. Red is dying. Every second counts.

With one last gaze in which she pours out her love for Red, Regina rises. Before departing, she takes Red's hand, and as she had with her wife's face, peppers it with a dozen kisses, leaning her cheek against Red's knuckles after.

"I love you," she whispers, body swaying gently as she stares longingly at the only person for whom she is willing to move heaven and earth. "I always thought I knew how much until this happened, but I was wrong. Seeing you like this, going through all that I've been through to save you...well, it has awakened me to a new depth of perspective that I did not have before. I made new friends, my love – friends that you will get along with famously. And Snow and I...we have laid the foundations upon which, I think, we might can build in the future. More than anything, I learned that my wedding vows were not an oath, but a prophecy that is coming true."

Taking a deep breath, she presses another kiss to Red's hand and then begins repeating a portion of her vows for emphasis, willing Red to hear them just as she had before departing for Oz. "I love you with all of my heart and all of my soul," she says. "You are my joy, my strength, my equal in all things, and my very beating heart. You are my happy ending, Red, and to prove that to you, I bestow upon you half of my kingdom, which is less in value than the half of my soul that already belongs to you. It is, and shall ever be, my greatest privilege to be your wife. So let all the kingdom hail, from town to country, from valley to mountain top, and from earth to the heavens above, that there is a new Queen in Misthaven. Prosperous may her reign be, _and long may she live_."

"Hear, hear," a voice sounds from the door, startling Regina.

She turns to see Snow standing in the doorway, tears flowing down her ruddy cheeks. Behind her, Charming nods his endorsement of that blessing with which Regina had ended her vow, and she can see that he, too, has tears in his eyes. And then there is Mulan, sandwiched between the two Charmings, her normally detached visage so full of emotion that Regina feels a swell of warmth rising within her chest. With so many people pulling for Red, it just does not seem possible for there to be any outcome besides a happy one.

But as if the gods have heard her thoughts and wish to prove once again how little she really knows, everything suddenly falls apart. Red's hand clenches in her own so viciously that she yelps in pain. Before she can pry her wife's iron grip free, something truly terrifying happens. Red gives out a groan from deep within her chest, which works its way up her throat until it is droning through the room. And then without warning, she stiffens tight as a drum from head to toe then immediately thereafter begins to thrash. The violence of the tremors shake the bed, and those awful groans continue on unremittingly until Regina thinks in some dim part of her mind that it is a miracle Red's weakened lungs are able to produce so much noise when they are barely able to sustain even slight breathing.

"What's happening?!" she shouts as Snow screeches from beside her for someone to help Red, who is now flailing uncontrollably upon the bed. Regina is beside herself in fear and helpless as to what to do to help her wife.

"It's a seizure," Charming says, rushing over to the other side of the bed where he deftly maneuvers Red on to her side, but does not in any other way attempt to restrain her as she continues to thrash for what seems like forever. He glances up at Regina, expression tortured but also eerily calm. "I know it looks bad," he tells her and Snow, then glances at Mulan who – looking pale as Regina has ever seen her – has moved over to help him stabilize Red on her side. "She's been doing this on and off since the day you left. Doctor Frankenstein told us that all we can do is let her ride it out."

And that they do, though the minute and a half that follows is absolute torture for Regina. There is literally nothing she can do but watch as Red groans and shakes and foams at the mouth before mercifully slumping in a boneless heap, appearing for all intents and purposes dead save for the labored rise and fall of her chest.

The second Red has stilled, Regina checks her to ensure she is still alive. She finds a pulse, erratic and weakened but detectable, and Red is still breathing, although she labors even more than before to draw air into her lungs.

Heart in her throat, Regina rises and strides over to the corner of the room, hands seeking purchase in her hair to wrench at it until it feels like she is about to rip it loose by the roots. So that no one can see her face, she presses her forehead into the corner, chest heaving with panicky breaths. She can feel a scream of frustration and grief welling up deep within her gut, and it builds and builds until she cannot contain it anymore. All movement in the room stills as she ventilates her anguish until her lungs are vacated of air. She screams twice more in a similarly unhinged manner before her fit ends, draining out of her as if a stopper has been pulled to empty a tub.

Spent, she turns her back to the wall and slumps against it, hands droppings uselessly to her sides as she slides down it. After landing roughly upon her ass, legs bent at awkward angles, she peers at her hands, palms turned up, cursing her inability to help her wife despite the awesome power that is always lurking just beneath the surface of her skin. The same power that had so boldly resisted Zelena upon a cold, snowy mountain pass in Oz is useless to her now.

Berating herself for her failures, she does not hear Snow approach. "Regina?" the raven haired monarch poses carefully.

Regina does not acknowledge Snow, merely continues to stare at her worthless hands and curse her worthless powers. She had learned magic so that she would never feel powerless again, and now she feels more so than ever before.

"Why?" she asks Snow after a moment, lifting her face to look at Snow, eyes wide and brimming with tears.

Snow crouches down so that she is looking at Regina at eye level. "Why what, honey?"

"Why her?" Regina replies, eyes flitting to Red before turning down upon herself in utter contempt. "Why not me instead? Aren't I more deserving of such torment? Why does she have to suffer for loving me? Why, Snow? Why does _everything_ I love get taken away from me?" Now rocking back and forth and keening in despair, Regina's hold on sanity slips, and for a brief moment she starts to hyperventilate. "I can't lose her," she wails, gasping breath as tears pouring from her eyes. "I...I can't. She is my whole...world. She's my whole world, Snow. I can't...lose her!"

"Oh, honey, you're not going to lose her," Snow promises and then falls to her knees and opens up her arms.

Regina collapses forward into Snow's embrace and for the first time since Red was stricken down by Zelena's curse, allows herself the luxury of turning loose of her emotions. Not even her crying fit the night she'd woken to her father watching over her rivals the bitter sobbing that overtakes her. Unable to stop herself, Regina cries and cries and cries until there are no tears left, and the entire time, Snow does not let go and does not stop whispering encouragements into her ears as she soothingly rubs Regina's back in the way only a mother could.

At last spent, Regina's cries have turned into hiccups when Snow pulls away. She gazes at her once nemesis with blurry eyes.

"Feel better?" Snow asks, not a hint of judgment in her tone.

"A bit, yes," Regina answers after a moment. She clears her throat as she dries her tears on her sleeve. "Thank you. I'm sorry..." she gestures lamely between them, "for that regrettable lapse of control."

Taking Regina's hand, Snow gives it a pat and then smiles. "Nonsense. You needed to get that out since before we left for Oz. And I was more than glad to help." She then stands and helps to pull Regina back to her feet, staying nearby until Regina is not quite so wobbly. "But," she then says once Regina has steadied herself, "now that you're more composed, I think you have some important work to do. And don't worry about Red, we will take care of her in the meantime."

Regina nods gratefully. Words cannot express how much it meant to her that Snow was so free with her consolation. If anyone in the world had a right to relish in Regina's sorrow, it was Snow, and yet she chose to be the bigger person, just like always, and not for the first time of late, Regina can see how valuable of a trait that is.

And yet, Regina is still a proud woman at heart, and rather than tell Snow this, she merely smiles weakly and nods. "Thank you," she offers, "and you are correct. Red does not have much time, so I best get to making that cure."

And with that, she magicks herself into a black dress with red trimming that makes her feel at home again and in control, a Queen in her element, confident and proud. Head held high, she strides out of the bedroom, then makes her way down into the belly of the castle where her personal apothecarium is located.

After scrubbing a hand over her face, she rolls up her sleeves and rolls her neck to relieve the stress of the past few days. Determination settles in, eradicating the sorrow that had temporarily claimed her.

Snow was right. She has work to do.


	34. The Killer Cure

**A/N:** I'm a moron. I posted a placeholder chapter on accident. Sorry!

 **Standard Disclaimer** : These lovely characters ain't mine, I just play with them gently. Please don't sue me. The mistakes are mine, though.

* * *

 **Chapter** **33** – The Killer Cure

To complete the potion which will enable Red's curse to be broken takes hours of tedious labor. Regina is so affected by Red's seizure that her hands shake for the first several minutes. Fortunately, the trembling subsides by the time she sets up her equipment and then grounds up the bark Snow had procured into a fine dust using the mortar and pestle she has kept since her apprenticing days. The act of powdering the bark has a remarkably calming effect on her nerves. Brewing potions is an activity she has always had an affinity for and the private apothecarium she installed in the secluded sub-levels of the Dark Palace has become a secondary refuge outside the sanctum sanctorum of the bedchamber she shares with her wife.

Where once she'd neglected her favored pastime in order to concentrate on hunting down Snow White, she has since resumed brewing in earnest. Without that obsession occupying her every waking thought, she found herself with increasingly more free time to kill and a pressing need of a regular outlet for her magic. One does not simply walk away from dark magic even if one wants to. It is very much like a drug to which the body adapts, except instead of needing to ingest a substance to ward off withdrawals, energy needs to be spent lest it build up to excess. Allowing that to happen can cause one of a number of potential maladies such as blistering migraines and debilitating body aches. At worst, death can occur, but that is only possible if a magician of great power stops practicing the arts cold turkey. Which, incidentally, is what would likely happen to her.

The impetus for her refocus on alchemy and herb lore was a sickness that rampaged through the northwestern region of the kingdom about a year after Red came to live at the Dark Palace. Regina had not been moved enough by the plight of her people to personally intervene, though she'd dispatched all of the aid she could to the villages most heavily affected. It was only after her father rode through the area and came down with the debilitating ailment that caused catastrophic fevers, vomiting, and delirium that she acted. At first, she summoned the best physicians in the kingdom to treat him. Despite their best efforts, none could cure the sweet, unassuming man who was the only blood relative she'd ever given a damn about.

With her father on death's door, Red finally suggested that magic should be used to heal him even if he preferred otherwise. Regina was not about to argue. Her father may have hated magic enough to die rather than have it involved in his treatment, but she loved him too much to let his stubbornness overrule rationality. Red's firm agreement in the matter was the proverbial nail in the coffin. So she consulted her tomes for a cure. With Red joining in the search, it took nearly twelve harrowing and stressful hours before they eventually stumbled upon the remedy in an obscure text she'd pilfered from Rumplestiltskin's vast collection of magical grimoires. A day later, her father was up and about, weak but alive, and surprisingly happy for that fact even if they had conspired against his wishes to save him. It was the start of a renewed interest in the apothecary arts that has yet to wane.

Over the next six months, she indulged her reinvigorated passion in experimentation. During that period of frenzied creativity, she developed a revitalizing tincture that became a staple in the army and an incredibly effective fertility potion that was responsible for a spike in births, which in turn resulted in her much more cautiously producing and administering it. While those are just two examples of the specialty products she frequently creates in her laboratory, they are some of her best sellers.

Once per fortnight she ventures into Stahldorf to peddle her potions in the market for a pauper's fee. To avoid panicking her staff and advisers, she makes an excuse of going out for an afternoon ride before sneaking to the apoethecarium to adopt a disguise which will prevent her from being recognized. There, she glamours her face to slightly alter her features and dresses the part of a peasant witch of silvery hair with tattered skirts and a faded blouse. She then leaves the castle through low traffic corridors, her wares neatly arranged in a large basket Red wove by hand just for her, then travels to the market to sell her creations at a little stand she'd commandeered from a vendor of retirement age for a sizable pouch of gold.

No one has discovered her venture as of yet aside from her werewolf wife, who instantly recognized her by smell while in the village and had confronted her about her subterfuge. After explaining what she was doing, Red promised not to tell, which was no great surprise. In fact, she'd heartily encouraged her to continue the side business, arguing that it was a positive outlet for her magic and generally a good thing for her to do for her people.

Of course, there are occasions that her nasty side crops up, causing her to question her motives for such benevolence or whether the people she helps are really worth her precious time. Whenever that happens, Red never fails to purposefully meander through the market, as if she has felt that turmoil and is compelled to relieve it. Which she does with secretive and incredibly proud smiles that warm Regina's insides, dispel her concerns, and serve as encouragement to continue her endeavors. Red's silent assurance is a reminder that it is not wrong to use her magic for ends that would be disapproved of by the two people most responsible for molding her into who she is.

Her mother and Rumple only ever used their powers to further their own self-interests, and it was what they expected of her as well. She was only too happy to listen to their instruction until Red came along and showed her that being good does not necessarily mean being weak and that it is okay to derive pride and satisfaction from helping people for next to no compensation. Without Red's influence, so many people would still be infirm and infertile at best or dead at worst, and that is what she focuses on as she follows the directions on the parchment Ozma provided instructing her how to make the counter-potion to Zelena's nefarious curse.

To begin, she prepares a solution of poppyseed oil and gypsum, a mixture which will promote absorption into the patient's body – which is accomplished by the poppyseed – and fight the fever that is ravaging her body – and thus the gypsum. She then heats the mixture and stirs it thoroughly to promote integration. With that done, she processes the solution through her distillation apparatus to concentrate it. Next she adds the reduced bark into the freshly distilled liquid before repeating the process of integration by applying enough heat to bring it to a gently rolling boil.

With the concoction in stage one of the required boiling time, Regina sends for Victor. While she waits, she turns an hourglass to mark when to back the heat down for another hour and takes a rest in the lounge chair she procured for precisely this purpose. When her father shows up unexpectedly, she arises to meet him and falls into his waiting arms. Feeling the weight of Red's fate bearing heavily down again, she sags against him, fighting back tears. Aged and weakened though he is, he holds her up with more strength in his frame than he has displayed in many years. His comfort and encouragement and reassurance is welcome for once, a bright light in a room shrouded by uncertainty and menaced by a looming possibility of one final, catastrophic disaster.

After pulling away some minutes later, he questions her about Oz. Regina gives him a watered down version of events, emphasizing her time with Ozma and Dorothy and downplaying how close she came to death while fighting Jillian and then Zelena. He frets over her as she relates how her sister had tried to rip her heart out, and his concern is so touching, she lets him as long as she can bear to. He expresses his desire to meet her new friends, which she echoes, stating that he would find in Dorothy another kindred spirit similar to Red and in Ozma a reminder that there is objective good in the world worth fighting and dying for. He then goes on to tell her more about what happened during her time away, how frightening it had been as the citadel was besieged, how the inhabitants – despite their fear – banded together as never before to repel the invaders and protect their home.

He is just informing her of his version of Mulan's epic ride to their salvation when Victor finally arrives. A glance from her tells her father that she wants to be left alone with the physician so they can speak more freely. She worries less about how her father will handle what is going to be discussed than how she will. She has never taken bad news well but his tendency to paw at her and offer sympathy she does not want only exacerbates her poor reception.

After her father has dismissed himself, she informs him of the seizure she'd witnessed in detail and then questions him about Red's condition since she was gone, particularly regarding said seizures. To her horror, she learns that Red has been declining precipitously since around the same time Snow was visiting the Burning Room in her dreams. They have repeated with regularity every three to four hours, meaning that there have been a dozen of them or more, each growing increasingly prolonged and violent.

"What about her brain?" Regina inquires, hardly able to hold back her tears at the depths of her wife's suffering. "Will it be damaged by all of this repeated trauma?"

The subject matter turns her stomach, but she needs to know if the fever and the seizures have had a permanent impact on the complex and highly sensitive organ that makes a person who they are. Biological science in the Enchanted Forest is rudimentary in most cases, but pioneering physicians in Victor's world have discovered that the brain is the seat of human consciousness and feeling, and that injuries to it sometimes alter a person in ways that seem unimaginable. Regina cannot fathom what she will do if Red wakes up paralyzed or unable to speak or see or hear, or worse yet has a completely different personality – all of which are recorded side-effects of catastrophic brain injuries.

Victor grimaces but does not lie, knowing better than to do so to her, especially about Red's welfare. "I'm concerned it may be," he replies grimly. "Her fever has not abated in nearly five days. It has only gotten worse, and the seizures are particularly worrisome. I can't predict in good conscience what will happen when she wakes up. All I can tell you is that I know Red. She is much stronger than we are, and that is not speaking as a matter of opinion but fact. Her unique biology allows her to endure more hardship without incurring permanent repercussions. So, while there is a definite chance that her brain has been irreparably damaged, I regard it as minor. I am cautiously optimistic that she will make a full recovery if your efforts succeed."

Regina breathes a sigh of relief, though it is short lived.

"However," Victor then continues, "she cannot be allowed to languish much longer without intervention. From what you told me about this latest seizure, I am genuinely frightened that they now pose a credible threat to – if not her survival – her quality of life going forward."

Regina blanches and then dismisses Victor to check on Red so that she can be alone with her thoughts. The sounds of the potion boiling over the burner lull her into a deepened state of meditation. Now that she actually has time to process why the decline of Red's body affected her soul as well, she finds that it makes sense to her. Red is not an ordinary human being but a werewolf whose dualistic spirit is expressly manifested in the flesh. This duality endows her with superhuman senses and abilities even outside her ability to transmorph into an enormous and absolutely gorgeous black wolf. That condition also goes a long way toward explaining why Red declined so precipitously in contrast to how a normal person would have under a similar curse. Her wolf is inextricably linked to her body, and with her body suffering the wolf is suffering as well, which acts as an efficacious augmentation to the curse.

And yet, even though she has reasonable explanations to why Red is suffering so acutely, her conversation with Victor has her rattled. It was like being stabbed by a thousand tiny invisible daggers to listen as the brilliant physician related Red's wasting away over the past two days. The telling was only made worse for her near failure to retrieve the necessary ingredient for the antidote. Zelena very nearly killed her at the Grove, and had that happened, all would have been lost. Even having prevailed, her victory came at a steep cost. Had Ozma not given of her own essence to restore her energy, she and Snow would likely still be in Oz. From the way Victor explained Red's deteriorating condition, they would have arrived too late to save her. Either the fever would have overwhelmed her heart having spiraled out of control or a subsequent seizure would have destroyed her brain. Coming back home with the cure in hand to a dead wife would have broken Regina all over again and so comprehensively that she knew instinctively she would have never recovered.

At the same time, learning just how close she'd come to defeat makes her even more appreciative of the efforts Ozma and Dorothy had gone to on her behalf. Yes, they lied to her about the passage of time at the cabin, but without them, she would never have made it this far. From Dorothy's levelheaded approach to swiftly escorting them safely through the Emerald City and the way she'd so bravely leapt in front of a deadly bolt meant for her heart, to Ozma's diligent care and companionship and trust and her selfless expenditure of her own essence on behalf of a woman she knew was once truly evil, her new friends were largely responsible for this opportunity to raise Red from the curse without permanent side-effects. The debt she owes them has soared far beyond her ability to ever settle it.

The only ameliorating factor is her increasing acceptance of destiny having guided her into their orbit. With all that has happened, how can she refute that fate had a hand in guiding her to them? It feels like the extraordinary series of events that unfolded were arranged just so that she could make their acquaintance and learn to love them more and faster than any friend she has ever made. And so that she could ultimately complete her mission to save her True Love and in doing so restore the precious faith and hope she had lost the night Daniel died. Once upon a time, she had cursed fate for what she'd been forced to endure, but she can now say that the cosmic scales upon which her life is determined are approaching a balance she believed unattainable. Although it is, she thinks, high past time for that, she is too grateful to be angry for the relentlessly dark and troubled road she was made to trod to get here.

Upon noticing the last grains of sand in the hour glass have slipped through the narrow opening between its wide ends, she dials back the heat and resets the hourglass. She spends most of the next hour pacing the room and reciting various recipes Rumple made her learn by rote. When not acting the part of a mad scientist, she returns to the chair to perch on the edge and anxiously watch the concoction boil. Finally the hourglass runs out a second time, and as Regina stands, she steels herself for the final task.

With the liquid still faintly roiling, she removes it from the flame and then pours it into a series of vials. She'd made much more than was necessary, but precautions are never a bad idea. Once the vials are full, she casts the spell written upon the bottom of Ozma's parchment, repeating the strange words as though she is fluent in the language – that she is able to do so is once again due to the fantastic enchantment that she intends to learn the next time she sees Ozma, whenever that is. The second the last syllable leaves her lips, the contents of the glass vials bubble and whirl at a dizzying pace before reaching crescendo in a flash of brilliant white brighter than the sun. When the process concludes, a stable honey-colored liquid remains.

Regina is momentarily awestruck by the process, but shakes herself out of the stupor when she remembers Victor's warning. Red has no time for her to dawdle, so she quickly scoops up the first vial and then dashes from the apothecarium. Skirts swishing about her ankles in her haste, she rushes through the hallways, paying no attention to her servants as they part to make room for her passage. They know what is at stake just as well as she does.

By the time she reaches the Royal Guest Chambers, there is fine sheen of sweat upon her brow, though it is less from exertion than it is from insidious doubts cropping up over whether or not the potion she'd prepared will work. Stopping in front of the door, she rests her forehead against the rough wood, appreciating the discomfort it provides to center her swirling emotions.

She knows she is being irrational. Not only had she received confirmation the cure would work from the Dark One, but Ozma added hers as well. And though Regina is more inclined to trust her benevolent fairy friend's opinion, she is reluctant to dismiss Rumple's on matters that concern magic. Still, too much is on the line for her to _not_ stress over the possibility that she'd somehow made a mistake in the brewing process or had inflected a vowel incorrectly in the incantation. Seeing as either possibility would result in catastrophic failure, thus rendering the potion as little more than a disgustingly flavored placebo, she gives herself a moment to fret internally before scraping up enough courage to finally go inside.

Upon cracking the door open and peaking in, the scene she is greeted with is almost touching. Everyone she had left behind some hours ago is still present. She can tell by their change of clothing and freshened faces that they have recongregated after taking breaks of their own.

The first person in Regina's line of sight is Snow. With her raven hair plaited into a braid, she is seated beside Red, carefully situated near the edge of the bed on the far side while relating a story of their time on the run together. As she speaks, she alternates between playing with Red's limp hand and brushing her fingers through Red's dark, sweat dampened locks. Meanwhile, Charming stands beside his wife with his hands settled on her shoulders, adding his perspective to the adventure Snow is audibly recalling as he gazes at Red with the fondness of a sibling. Victor also is in the room, seated rigidly in a chair against the far wall as he reads a book, his attention split between that endeavor and keeping an eye on Red. And then there is Mulan, who hovers next to the window, as if standing sentry against death itself, that invisible foe which can neither be battled with sword or fist nor defeated or slain.

Red's Grandmother and Regina's father are the only new occupants. Henry is hovering closely to Granny, trying to look stoic and strong. A shadow over his face betrays his concern, and not only for his daughter-in-law. _Interesting._ He has not shown such overt concern for any woman since her mother died. Not that his monastic outlook has been troublesome to Regina. The thought of her father seeking companionship with any woman, however nice and caring, brings with it a slew of emotions that Regina does not want to deal with. Ever, preferably. The way her father is touching Granny, lightly about the shoulder as if she is something precious and fragile, indicates she will not get her wish. _I wonder what Red will think about this development?_ Likely, Regina thinks, with far more enthusiasm as she will should her snap deduction prove accurate.

Meanwhile, Granny is hunched over in a chair she pulled up to the foot of the bed on the side nearest to Regina. Her back is to the door so that Regina cannot see her face. She does not need to, really. Shoulders drawn in, hands worrying together incessantly in her lap, it is clear the woman is on a knife's edge. It is the second time Regina has seen her wife's grandmother look her age. Unbidden, she remembers Granny's reaction to seeing Red the first time. Her stomach clenches painfully. After what happened two days earlier, no doubt she is about to be the target of an epic tirade if not the previously promised crossbow bolt to the heart.

All turn in concert when the door creaks as Regina forces it further open.

"Regina!" Snow exclaims, her eyes immediately seeking out Regina's in a silent inquiry. There is no misinterpreting what she is asking.

Regina nods in affirmation and then glides over to the bedside nearest to Granny. The elder Lucas looks up at her with glassy eyes in a silent plea for her to make good on the promise to save the only person they both love more than their own pride. In that simple glance, there is more emotion on display in the silver-haired matriarch than Regina has ever been privy to. She is especially surprised – because of the way they'd left things before Oz that is – to note it markedly excludes the condemnation she had expected to be directed at her.

Regina lifts the vial up for her, and for everyone else, to see. "I have it." Every countenance brightens at the sight of the luminescent amber liquid contained within the vial, including Granny's. After giving the intensely worried grandmother a reassuring smile, Regina steps around the chair to the head of the bed, where she sits delicately at Red's hip, much as Snow is on the opposite side. She allows her father a quick hug and accepts a kiss to her forehead, then indicates toward Charming with her hand as her father backs away. "Would you be so kind as to prop Red up, King David?"

He nods, taps Snow once on the shoulder, and after his wife rises and steps aside, moves up next to the bed even with Regina. Stooping down slightly, he maneuvers an arm beneath Red's neck right at the junction with her shoulders and very gently lifts her to where the limp woman's torso is vertical.

"Hold her there, please," Regina instructs as she unstops the vial, and then grips Red's jaw, tipping her head back slightly at the same time. She has to use more force than she would have liked to pry Red's mouth open, but once she has created enough of a gap in her lips to slip the potion by, she deftly raises the vial to Red's lips and gently pours the contents into her mouth. As it the amber liquid slips in, she makes sure to keep Red's head held backward so it slides down her throat with as little resistance as possible. Regina breathes an inaudible sigh of relief when the substance entering Red's esophagus is swallowed reflexively. With a nod of thanks to Charming, Regina releases her jaw and then helps hold her head steady as he lowers her torso back down to the bed. All there is to do now is wait.

It takes several intolerable minutes before Red shows the first sign of the potion taking effect. By that time the atmosphere is so thick with tension that it could be cut with knife. The stress of the situation ratchets up a notch when Red whimpers, her brows furrowing in deep discomfort as she begins to move her head, first to one side and then to the other. Her legs shuffle beneath the thick covers, and her whimpers grow increasingly distressed to the point that Regina's stomach rises into her throat.

Over the subsequent minutes, Regina is not sure how many, Red continues to pitifully whimper and moan, her legs and arms jerking and twitching, face a portrait of barely restrained suffering. Regina aches over her entire body as she watches her wife struggle, helpless to do anything but let the counter-potion take its course in undoing Zelena's handiwork. Such is the way of life. In some instances fire is necessary in order for new life to spring forth, and in many cases pain is required for healing. Knowing this, however, does not make her feel any better.

When at last it seems as if Red's vocal yet non-linguistic protests are at a climax, she abruptly stills and then goes slack. For a span of a handful of seconds that feel like hours, nothing happens, leaving Regina to wonder if it is time for her part in the process. But just as she starts to lean in for the kiss that will wake her wife, Red begins seizing again. This time the thrashing is so violent that Red would have thrown herself from the bed had Regina not been sitting beside her to act as a barrier – or had Charming and Mulan not been hovering close by to secure Red upon her side as they had done earlier. The groans that came from Red previously are notably absent for the first few seconds of the seizure, but those would have been preferable to the unholy banshee shrieks and wails that escape when her mouth falls open.

The variety of simply inhuman sounds that crawl out of Red's mouth over the next interminable minutes are so unnerving that Regina can feel a paralyzing fear set up shop in her heart. She clamps a hand over her own mouth to prevent herself from vocalizing just how petrified she is. Snow, however, is not quite so successful, and begins frantically questioning what is happening in between distressed cries.

Victor tries to explain that Red's body is reacting to the internal battle going on between the counter-potion and Zelena's magic, and that while the seizure may look frightening it is probably nothing to worry about. The _probably_ doesn't seem to register with Snow, who is somewhat calmed by Victor's explanation. To Regina, it rings glaringly loud, filling her with renewed doubt as to whether or not the potion will work.

 _Is this my fault? Did I mess it up somehow? Did I just kill my wife?_

The questions buzz through her mind like a saw blade has been turned loose inside her skull. No answers present themselves, nor is there any immediate relief to be found. She clenches her eyes shut and whimpers pathetically when Red's tremors intensify and her shrieks turn into garbled screams so loud they hurt her ears. A space of a few seconds passes, and then as quickly as the fit came on, it ends. Red gives one last strangled shout before everything stills and Regina feels her entire body goes lax upon the bed.

When Regina forces her lids apart, she finds Red's eyes wide open. Only there is something terribly wrong. Rather than her pupils focusing with awareness, they remain dilated, vacant, and staring into nothingness. Ignoring what her gut is telling her, Regina leans down at an awkward angle to press a kiss against Red's lips, thinking only of the indefinable love that occupies her heart. Upon contact of flesh to flesh, she is heartened to see that this time True Love's kiss works as it is supposed to, for a brilliant white light bursts forth from between their bodies, blinding in its intensity and suffusing the entire room with a warmth that soothes Regina to the depths of her very soul.

Leaning back with a smile on her face, she expects to have broken the curse and to see Red's eyes responsively gazing back at her in that adoring way that she has come to treasure. Skin that was once blemished with burns that if natural surely would have scarred has returned to pristine condition – smooth, pale, but with healthy coloring instead of the washed out, sickly tone. Regina's hopes soars, chest suffusing with exhilarating warmth. And then she lifts her gaze to Red's face and it all comes crashing spectacularly down.

"Red?" she asks, voice breathy with anxiety. No response is given. Red merely lies stock still, staring blankly forward as a trickle of foam drips from her glistening lips onto the sweat dampened sheets. Regina reaches over and grips her shoulder to give her a gentle shake. "Red? Red! Sweetheart, answer me! Wake up. Wake up, damn you, this very instant!" Her voice grows more panicked with each call that goes unanswered. Looking up at Victor, she implores him for help with her eyes.

After stepping quickly over to the bed, Victor presses a finger to Red's neck, feeling for her pulse. Regina's heart stutters at the look of dismay that crosses his face.

"Her heart isn't beating," he says, as if he does not understand what has happened.

The proclamation strikes at Regina like a well aimed sword thrust into her breast. She feels the entire world caving in around her, suffocating her as Snow begins to express her disbelief in gasping wails. Charming and Mulan stand stricken in place, frozen in shock at what has happened while Granny slumps back into her chair, skin devoid of color, her eyes like saucers and rapidly flooding with tears.

Unwilling to face reality, unable to process what is happening, Regina stares down at Red's frozen features. She reaches out to touch her face, hand quaking so badly that it shakes her entire arm. The skin under her fingertips is so hot that it nearly burns her hand, but she does not jerk away. Instead, like the masochist she is, she welcomes the sensation of her flesh being seared. It is fitting, she thinks, and wishes suddenly that her whole body could be consumed by the inferno so as to match the charring of her heart and soul.

A twisting nether of hopelessness invades Regina's heart and she does not resist its greedy claws. She does not want to live in a world in which Red is not with her, does not want to go back to the life she used to lead, so empty, so meaningless, so wasteful and self-destructive. Now that she has experienced True Love again, lived it each and every day for over seven years, how is she supposed to move on? With Daniel, she only got to sample a taste. Red has submerged her into an ocean of love whose waters are healing a heart that once was as black as coal and have restored goodness to a soul that was wholly corrupted by evil. Now that ocean is being drained dry, and there is nothing she can do to prevent it from evaporating before her very eyes.

Suddenly growing numb with the onset of reality, Regina shivers and wraps her arms around herself to ward off a bitter chill.

Death is coming for her. In the cavernous void of her despair addled mind, she can hear the earth groan beneath the ebon hooves of his pale horse, smell the sulfuric stench of his breath, and see his inhuman eyes burning a greedy red in anticipation of claiming his ultimate prize. Welcoming the relief of his sepulchral touch, she prays with every fiber of her being for it to find her swiftly.

Red is dead. Her life is already over.


	35. Reawakening

**Standard Disclaimer** : These lovely characters ain't mine, I just play with them gently. Please don't sue me. The mistakes are mine, though.

* * *

 **Chapter 34** – Reawakening

"Move out of the way!"

A harsh voice snaps Regina out of her hopeless trance. She glances over just in time to see Victor push Snow and Charming away from the bed to make more room. She shifts furtive eyes over to Granny, who remains seated, having gone pale as a ghost while clutching white-knuckled at the fabric of her dress around the neckline. Regina worries for a moment that stress might induce the older woman to have a heart attack, though that fades swiftly when her attention is again arrested by a movement from Victor. She watches him frantically roll Red onto her back and levels him with a harsh glare. Uncertainty as to what he is doing blends with irritation that he has so rudely interrupted her futile attempt to reconcile herself to Red's death.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" she asks, voice strangely devoid of emotion.

"Saving her life!" Victor barks back, then straddles Red's torso.

It is only out of respect for his vast medical knowledge that she does not protest, although seeing his current position has her vision tinting red. It only gets worse when he places his hands just above Red's sternum right between her breasts. Incensed, she intends to retaliate only for her anger to turn into pure confusion when Victor begins pressing down on Red's chest with enough force to compress her rib cage at least two inches inward before relenting. He repeats this movement over and over before stopping abruptly, pinching her nose closed and then breathing forcefully into her mouth. For what seems like an eternity, Regina watches numbly as Victor continues his mysterious efforts, working up a sheen of sweat upon his brow as he counts out compressions and then breathes into Red's mouth again.

Finally, having had enough and determined to stop the desecration of her wife's corpse, she grips the physician's arm. "Victor, stop."

He shrugs her off violently to continue his efforts. "No! It can't end...like this," he says, his face hardened with resolve as he pants in time with the compressions. "I won't...let it."

Fed up with everything and everyone, Regina is just about ready to explode when something utterly shocking happens. After another three compressions, Victor reaches for Red's nose just to wrench back when she suddenly springs back to life, surging forward with a hoarse gasp. For a brief second, her expression is pure shock characterized by huge eyes and a mouth hanging open. But then the assault on her body registers, pain contorts her features and she begins coughing ferociously. Unable to believe what she is seeing, Regina stares on in wonder as Red grasps at her chest and hacks until her face turns beet red.

"What the _hell_?" Red groans when the fit ends. She peers around the room as she struggles to hold herself upright. Victor, who is grinning at her from ear to ear, helps keep her propped up.

Her eyes first land upon Snow and Charming, who are nearby to Red's right, tightly embracing to share their mutual relief. Red seems flabbergasted to see her friends there, but doesn't say anything as she next turns to Mulan's. The normally stoic warrior is beaming back at her without restraint, causing Red's brows raise in surprise at the rare show of emotion. And then she catches Granny's azure gaze.

"Gran?" she asks, voice rough from lack of use.

"I'm here, girl," Granny replies, choked with emotion, clutching tightly to Henry's hand. Regina's father is beaming joyously, with almost as much intensity as he was after she and Red finished their vows and were proclaimed wedded before the gods and most of Misthaven's elite. Eugenia's expression is not quite so exaggerated, more muted with a relief that Regina understands too well. They woman they both love more than all else is alive and they can both breathe again.

Red stares at her grandmother for a minute, half-smiling and half-confused before shifting to Regina. For her part, Regina is still so shocked by Red's sudden resuscitation that she is sure she more resembles a fish dangling from a hook than the regal monarch she is supposed to be.

"Why am I -" Red begins, only to trail off as another fits of dry coughs wracks her chest. The intensity of them contort her entire frame, and weakened as she is because of the curse, she seems to curl further in on herself with every convulsive hack.

Needing to do something, Regina shuffles forward to rubs her back soothingly until the spell passes. When it does, she snaps her fingers to summon a glass of water into her hand.

"Take a sip of this, sweetheart," she tenderly yet firmly commands, smiling gently to Red, who shakily unfolds herself and sits up. Once upright, she reaches out to grasp the glass with quavering hands. Regina places her own over the trembling appendages to still them and then helps Red to lift the glass to her mouth. "There now. Easy," she says, keeping her hands in place to aid Red until she has consumed a quarter of the water in the glass. "Better?" she asks once Red pushes it back into her receptive hands.

Red smiles at her gratefully. "Much. Thank you." Her voice is much clearer now, which is a welcome sign.

Although the gratitude was unnecessary, Regina returns the smile and inclines her head in acceptance. "You're welcome, darling. Just let me know if you need more."

"'Kay. I will." Red then looks out over the room, again noting her location and her guests. "Why am I in the guest room?" she queries, her hand lingering over her chest, every once in a while rubbing it ever so slightly. "Not that I'm complaining, 'cause I'm so happy to see you all, but what's everyone doing here? Also..." she returns worried green eyes to Regina, "why do you look like you're about to pass out?"

"It's a long story, honey," Snow says, drawing Red's attention. The joy painted across her face is indescribable. "The condensed version is that Regina reached out and told us you were in danger, so of course we all came. As it happened, she needed me to accompany her on a mission to save you, and that's exactly what we did. We saved you...with the good Doctor's help, of course," she then adds, gesturing to Victor. "You would be dead right now if he hadn't revived you."

"Wow. Thank you, Victor," Red says, effusive with gratitude toward her dear friend in spite of the obvious discomfort she is dealing with.

"It was nothing," he says, mostly shrugging off the praise, as if his part in saving her life was minimal. That his actions were merely a part of his duties as court physician. His humbleness is not in tune with the character Regina knows, though she does not comment on the abrupt change because she knows why he is acting that way. Red brings out the best in everyone, even in a cold man of science like Victor Frankenstein.

"It wasn't nothing," Regina insists. "And I would like to extend my thanks as well. I am forever in your debt for what you've done. You have more than earned my trust after this, Victor. I think you ought to know that should my opinion change tomorrow." The corners of her lips turn up at the last part, eliciting a mirrored response from him.

"I'll try to remember that," he says, and then to Red responds, "And I accept your thanks, but only because you're my friend. There's nothing I wouldn't do to help you." He glances back up at Regina. "Either of you. You both know that, right?"

"Of course we do," Red replies, eyes shining with affection. Regina adds a nod of agreement. "It's one of the reasons I love you, Frankie. You try so hard to hide how much you care but you just can't. Not from me."

Victor sighs. "Are you still determined to use that terrible nickname?"

"Yep. And that won't change any time soon." Red grins impishly. "You'll _always_ be my Frankie!"

"Oh, my God," he groans in exasperation, the oath a reference to the monotheistic religion that dominates his homeworld. "Remind me again why I saved your life?"

Red's grin intensifies by an order of magnitude and then she sings out, "Because you _loooooove_ me!"

"Be glad that I do," he replies after a fond chuckle. "I have to admit, though, Regina and Snow did most of the heavy lifting by going to Oz to get the ingredients for the counter potion."

"They went where?" Red replies, eyes wide with wonder as she turns to Regina and then Snow. "You guys went to Oz?"

"We did," Snow replies. "You're my not just my best friend, Red. You're my _sister_." Regina's breath catches at the emphasized word, but she quickly masks her envy of what Snow and Red share. Not for the first time she returning to Misthaven, she wonders what she might have had with her own sister had their mother not been a selfish bitch. To keep from ruining the moment with her bitterness and regret, she bites down on her tongue as she listens to Snow add, "To be honest, Regina didn't even need to ask for me to tag along. Don't get me wrong, I'm glad she did. But I would have gone anyway whether she wanted me to or not. For you, there isn't much I wouldn't do."

Red's eyes widen as she shifts back to Regina. "You actually asked Snow for help? I almost can't believe it." Because of how ridiculous that would have sounded before this ordeal, she makes a show of pinching herself and then yips at the pain she feels. "Nope," she says after, rubbing at the spot she'd pinched, "I'm not still asleep. Guess it really happened. Is it raining cats and dogs outside? Or has the moon turned into cheese or something? 'Cause I think I must be dreaming or in some alternate dimension..."

Regina scoffs at Red's playful sarcasm, though the tender affection in her expression gives away that she is not terribly offended. How can she be really considering she'd been just as surprised at the development? A month ago she would have reacted with just as much disbelief.

"I did it for you," she says, tone a little too harsh. "So don't go making light of the situation. In case you hadn't noticed, you nearly died. I almost lost you. And while Snow may consider you a sister, you are my wife. Do you really think I wouldn't span the very heavens for you? Teaming up with Snow was a minor compromise compared to the lengths I would have gone. I would have bargained with Hades himself if that's what it took!"

By the time she finishes her diatribe, her face is slightly reddened and her heart is racing, both of which Red picks up on instantly. It takes only a heartbeat for her expression to shift into something so adorable that Regina's irritation eases.

"Aww, don't be cross," Red soothes, taking Regina's hand in her own, and Regina is beyond relieved that her skin feels warm as it should instead of the blistering heat produced by the fever. "I wasn't trying to offend you. I know how much you love me. I'm just surprised is all. You know...considering how things have been between you two for the past decade." She gestures between Regina and Snow, a loaded look on her face.

"Believe me, I was surprised, too," Regina admits. "But I was desperate and she was the only person qualified to help that I knew would be willing to go do what was necessary to save you."

"What _did_ happen to me, by the way?" Red then asks, as if she can't remember her time in the Burning Room or how she landed there in the first place. "I mean, you say you were desperate, but why? The last thing I remember is eating a bite of the apple Iris left for me on the morning snack tray."

Regina tenses tight as a drum. "Iris didn't leave the apple, sweetheart, and it was no ordinary piece of fruit. It was enchanted with a sleeping curse."

"That explains that, then," Red stays darkly, not elaborating before her expression turns inquisitive. "Who left it and why did they want to curse me?"

Regina sighs and then pinches the bridge of her nose. "It was my sister," she answers, "and she hurt you to hurt me."

"Your sister?!" Red screeches. "Regina! You have a sister and you didn't tell me?"

"In her defense, she didn't know either until Zelena crawled out of the woodwork," Snow supplies.

Regina rolls her eyes at Snow's unnecessary defense. "While I am fully capable of answering for myself," she says, pointedly glancing at Snow, who flushes a bit but does not apologize. "Snow is correct."

Having observed the silent interaction, Red chuckles despite the situation. "Glad to see some things haven't changed."

"Some things haven't," Regina admits, "but others have." She pauses, thinking of the progress she and Snow have made in their relationship during the journey to Oz and all that ensued upon that retrospectively reckless excursion. By no means have they become friends, but what they have done is built the foundation upon which a friendship could be built. That alone is a monumental achievement considering their beleaguered past. "Over the course of our...adventure, Snow and I decided it would mutually beneficial to extend the unspoken ceasefire between our kingdoms into a more permanent and official solution."

At hearing this news, Red's entire visage lights up as if she has revealed the grandest secret of the universe to her. "Are you seriously telling me you guys finally made peace?" she asks, voice breathless with wonder.

"We did," Regina confirms as Snow nods and beams back at Red. "There will be a formal détente between our nations until such a time as a treaty of alliance can be drawn up, signed, and ratified. That will take some time, though, due to some exciting developments in Oz."

"What we went through there," Snow adds, "well, it made us both realize that we've been operating under false assumptions. Turns out we have a lot more in common than either of us thought. There are solid, imposing mountains of hurt between us that will take time to work through, but I think we've got the beginnings of a bridge to cross those troubled waters."

"Indeed. Well said, dear," Regina nods in agreement, causing Snow's sunshine to intensify.

Charming, however, huffs his general disbelief, hands going to his hips. "I have to admit I find this sudden reconciliation to be almost inconceivable considering what's happened in the past between you two. An alliance of convenience is one thing, but..."

"To be fair," Regina interrupts, "that was all it was intended to be. We were working together to save someone we both love more than our...mutual disdain." She glances up to see Snow frowning and knows what the woman is thinking. "Or at least, my disdain and her well-founded mistrust. I hadn't expected to discover that she is not the same naive little girl who trusted someone I warned her not to. You should be proud of your wife, Charming. She has become a woman worthy of my respect as much for saving my life as for braving her own doubts to procure the ingredients for Red's cure. For the latter alone, I owe her more than I can ever repay."

"While I am as surprised as Charming to hear about this unexpected development, especially after listening to you complain about Snow all these years, I'm also very pleased," Red says, looking happy as a lark. "This is something I think you both know I've wanted for a long time."

"You're not the only one. I wanted it pretty badly, too," Snow admits with an almost timid smile to Regina and a fuller one to Red.

With Red watching closely to gauge her reaction, Regina smiles back, though it is with notably less enthusiasm. To her credit, Red seems to accept that a positive response – even if it is a bit muted – is a step in the right direction.

"So…did anything else interesting happen while I was out of it?" Red then asks, changing the subject in a display of tact she would not have had prior to becoming a queen. Regina squeezes her hand gratefully.

In response to the question, Granny takes a deep breath and then lets it out slowly, then grumbles under her breath a bit before finally speaking aloud. "I suppose you ought to hear this from me." Red raises a brow at her grandmother's worrying rejoinder while Regina braces herself for the confrontation that is likely to follow. "I may have...overreacted when we were first brought us back to see you."

Red scowls sharply at her grandmother. "What did you do, Gran?"

"I may have slapped the piss out of your woman," Granny confesses, looking mostly proud of herself and only an iota chagrined at her knee-jerk reaction to Red's condition. Henry's lack of a reaction tells Regina that he has already been informed of this by his new _friend._ He certainly hadn't heard it from her.

"Granny! How _dare_ you!" Red shouts, and then clutches at her chest with a grimace of pain from overexerting her voice. Regina leans forward to rub her shoulders as she coughs a few times, but those fiery green eyes – burning hot with indignation – never leave her grandmother's.

Granny holds up her hands to preempt Red from continuing to castigate her, which she knows just as well as Regina does would further irritate Red's protesting ribs and chest. "I know, I know," she sighs in an admission of guilt that is uncommon if Red's recounting of her childhood is any reliable source of information regarding her grandmother's obstinance. "I was wrong, and I told _her_ that."

Regina rubs Red's shoulder again. "And for my part, I hold no ill will," she tells her furious wife, keeping her voice even to help calm Red down. "Your grandmother made an assumption that was not without basis. But we sorted all that out, didn't we, _Eugenia_?"

"That we did, _Regina,_ " Granny smirks. "I think we've come to somewhat of an understanding."

"Well," Red drawls, still pouting at her grandmother, "I'm glad you two smoothed things over, but that doesn't mean I'm okay with you assaulting my wife, Gran. 'Cause I'm not by a long shot."

"I'm a big, girl, darling. I can take any punishment your hot-tempered but well-meaning grandmother can dish out," Regina smirks, doing her best to look nonplussed by memories of having been slapped in the face by a member of her family, which Granny is by marriage. And in her own home and bedroom at that. To be honest, she is still a bit pissed about it but now is not the time to have it out with Granny. There will be plenty of time for that later. "The important thing is that she loves you enough to stand up to me, which is no small feat. Focus on that for the time being instead of a transgression that is in the past for everyone involved. It does you no good to brood on a simple misunderstanding after what you've just been through."

"Agreed," Granny adds, eyes narrowed and peering at Red over the top of her glasses. "Listen to the woman. She's not nearly as dumb as she looks." Regina sighs almost affectionately when Granny winks slyly in her direction, letting her know that the slight was in jest.

"Fine," Red relents, looking sullen for a moment about her wife and grandmother ganging up on her. "Anyway, back to your sister. Tell me about her. I want to know why she wanted to hurt you." After Regina takes a few minutes to explain things, Red goes silent as she digests what she has heard. "Seriously?" she eventually breathes out after a minute. "She was upset about not being raised by _Cora_? Wow. Suddenly I've never been more grateful to be an only child."

A bark of laughter erupts out of Regina's mouth before she can stop it, and it is followed by peals of giggling from Snow. Before she knows it, everyone is laughing at Red's unique way of seeing things – including her father, who normally takes jokes about his deceased wife poorly. The moment of levity diffuses the dark clouds lingering in the atmosphere from Red's near death experience, and Regina is once again stricken with gratitude that Red entered her life that day in the mountains on the fringes of her kingdom. Not only has Red filled her life with love but she brought with her a singular ability to dispel tension with a kind word, or a mollifying gesture, or as just happened, with a humorous comment.

Regina regards Red for a long pause, her eyes glittering with an indescribable fondness. "I love you," she says, and isn't surprised that the words sound breathless with wonder because they are.

"I love you, too, _mi linda esposa_ ," Red replies, a grin stretching across her lips like it is perfectly at home there, which to Regina's eternal delight, it is.

"Well," Snow then interjects, "as much as I'd like to hang around and talk, I'll let you two spend some time alone. You've both earned it." She steps to the bed to kiss Red's cheek, and Red returns the kiss and then gives her best friend a long hug and a hearty thanks for all she's done.

"Snow's right," Charming says as he replaces his wife to hug and kiss Red. "We'll be here for a while yet if that's alright with Regina."

His eyes seek out Regina, and she gives him a nod of approval. "Fine by me. You both are welcome to stay here as long as you wish. Extending our hospitality is the least we can do considering what you both have done for us."

"It was our pleasure," Charming replies, appearing to actually mean it. "I don't think a herd of wild horses could have kept Snow away. As far as I'm concerned, I have to admit to enjoying the battle more than I should have, probably. I've had to retire the sword for the most part after becoming king, but it was nice flexing those muscles again. Especially in defense of a friend." The genuine smile on his face as he speaks is rather strange considering how he feels about Regina, but not unwelcome since the peace between their kingdoms must be endorsed by Charming also.

Out of everyone in the room, Regina has the most contentious relationship with Snow's husband, which is remarkable considering how much grief Granny tends to give her. But whereas Granny's stinging barbs and general orneriness spring from her love for Red and, Regina thinks, a grudging respect for her, Charming has harbored a deep hatred of Regina that up until now has been mutual.

"What do you mean by that?" Red asks the sandy-haired king. "There was a battle?"

"You could say that," Charming replies, and then briefly explains the epic contest that raged within the citadel, and how Mulan had rode to the rescue.

At hearing Mulan's name, Red perks up, then gestures toward her stoic friend who has been lingering out of the way as if fearing she was intruding. "Mulan? Come here," she then softly orders, and then pats the space beside her that Snow has just abandoned. As the warrior obeys her sovereigns command, everyone else sneaks out of the room, but not before reassuring Red that they will remain close by.

Granny in particular wavers to be the last one to leave so that she can finally feel free to show affection without her sovereigns present. The woman is even more prideful than Regina, which is an accomplishment. It also speaks for why Red is so capable of dealing with Regina's pride without causing strife between them. She's had a lifetime of practice with the woman who raised her.

Before leaving, Granny makes her way to Red, wedging herself between Regina and the nightstand tucked up against the wooden bed frame. Bending down as well as she can due to her age, she embraces Red more tightly than she ever has and whispers something in Red's ear to which Regina is not privy. Whatever is said, Red blushes, bites her lip, and then nods.

"Just remember that the next time you decide to get yourself into a pickle. My poor old heart can't take much more of this stress," Granny says after pulling away.

"Like I planned this?" Red counters, hardly amused by the reference to her grandmother's advancing age. "How could I have known the apple was poisoned? It didn't smell bad or anything. I wouldn't have ate it otherwise!"

"We know that, sweetheart," Regina interjects. "My sister was aware you are a werewolf. She accounted for that when she made the curse, flaunted it even." She then pointedly glares at Granny. "Stop goading your granddaughter, Eugenia."

Granny simply smirks at that. "I couldn't resist, woman. It was easy pickin's. And besides," her expression softens, "she needs to remember when she's out amongst the unwashed masses or picking fights with rabid wolf packs that there are people who love her too much to lose her. People that need her around to remind them that there's still good in this world and that life is worth enjoying."

Red wilts at hearing her grandmother openly express how worried she'd actually been over some of the incidents during which Red was injured, and that she continues to worry because Red refuses to use caution where her own well-being is concerned as she should.

She ducks her chin down and plays with the blanket covering her lap. "Aw, Gran," she says, then bites her lip. When she raises her head, her eyes are swimming with tears. "I'm sorry I worried you. I wasn't trying to – I mean, I _don't_ try to. I just..." she pauses and sighs. "I guess I take for granted that me being a werewolf will protect me from everything when it won't." But then her expression shifts a bit, resolve washing over her, and when Red next speaks, Regina knows she is being addressed just as well as Granny. "But I refuse to live my life in fear. I won't be caged, not even after this. So don't ask me to be someone I'm not."

"We're not, Red," Regina answers calmly, understanding why Red feels that way. "All we want is for you to be more cautious. I love you just as you are and have no intentions of asking you to change. But in exchange for that leeway, I... _we_ ," she amends as Granny nods along, "need for you to be cognizant of your impact on our lives."

As she meets Red's green eyes, Regina holds out her hands for Red to take, which she does immediately, slipping their palms together so that their thumbs intertwine and their fingers close around the back of the others hand. Regina raises their linked hands to her mouth and places a kiss upon each of Red's before meeting her wife's shining eyes once again.

"As Eugenia has so ineloquently but aptly stated," she then says, "you are integral to our continued existence. Speaking for myself, I don't want to occupy a world in which you are not here, alive, standing by my side and loving me in that way only you can." Red blushes deeply at the earnest declaration, and Regina can see by the remorse in those green eyes that she is getting through to her obstinate wife. "So, please, from henceforth use wisdom. I won't go to extremes like I have in the past and demand you allow an entire squadron of guards to accompany you any time you wish to leave the castle. But would it really be so bad for a couple of knights you trust to keep proximity on your weekly excursions into the village? Would it really be so terrible for you to use discretion when you're running as the wolf? I want to live a long and happy life, but I can't do that if you're not with me. So if you exercise caution do it for own sake, do it for mine. Or for your grandmother and your friends. We all need you here, hale and whole."

After a heaving breath, shoulders slumping, Red bashfully shrugs. "I get it. I guess it wouldn't be so bad if Mulan came along when she can. If she's willing."

From where she stands on the other side of the bed, Mulan gives a respectful bow, a pleased grin on her face that is barely noticeable, but definitely there. "I am ever at your disposal, my Queen."

Red smiles her thanks. "And," she drawls to Regina and Granny both, "I suppose I can be a little less negligent in my fur. But sometimes I have to pick fights so that the pack remembers who is the real alpha. I'm gonna get in scrapes from time to time just because of the nature of the wolf. I can't help that."

"That's child's play to the wolf, though, Red," Granny says. "Regina is talking about you being stupid by taking on several packs at once – rabid packs at that. I still can't believe you pulled that bone-headed stunt."

"I know," Red winces. "It wasn't my finest moment, I'll admit. But I like to think I've learned from it. I haven't done anything stupid since."

"To be fair, she hasn't. She's mostly been a very good girl," Regina adds, earning her a commiserating kiss on her cheek.

"Well," says Granny, stern as ever, "see that it stays that way, alright?" She adjusts her glasses on her nose and nods when Red promises to stay out of trouble as best she can. "Good. Now, I'm gonna go find Snow and Charming before I retire for a nap. These old bones need some rest after all this excitement."

"Just call for Iris if you need anything," Regina tells Granny before she can move to depart. She doesn't bother instructing the elder werewolf where her chambers are, as Granny's memory is still keen and she has not forgotten the space Regina set aside for her long ago.

After giving Regina a tilt of the head in acknowledgment, Granny wraps her granddaughter in a final hug and then kisses her brow before making her way out of the room. For the first time, Regina is almost sorry to see her depart. It won't be the last.


	36. A Warrior's Heart

**Standard Disclaimer** : These lovely characters ain't mine, I just play with them gently. Please don't sue me. The mistakes are mine, though.

* * *

 **Chapter 35** – A Warrior's Heart

A moment after the door closes behind Granny, Red exchanges one of Regina's hands in favor of Mulan's.

"I'm glad to see you awake at last, my Queen," Mulan says, dutifully perching upon the edge of the bed when Red tugs her closer. Her eyes brim with unshed tears. "When I received word of what happened to you, I was beside myself with worry. I hardly slept at all and nearly drove my poor horse to the brink of death getting back here."

Regina has never seen Mulan closer to crying than she is at that moment. The emotion she is displaying reinforces just how much she loves Red, which is not an earth-shattering revelation. Red has that kind of effect on just about everyone she meets. But it does offer a glimpse into the softer side of Mulan, one that is hardly ever allowed to see the light of day.

"You're a good friend," Red says, smiling gently. "Thank you for caring so much. It means a lot to me. And thank you for keeping our people safe while Regina was away and I was...indisposed."

Mulan returns the smile with a more subdued one. "It was my pleasure. I will always do whatever I must to protect not only this kingdom, which I love as much if not more than the land of my birth, but for both of my Queens." She glances up at Regina, who inclines her head with respect and fondness. "I care deeply for you both," Mulan then adds, and Regina's heart flutters at the sentiment. She's always been aware of Mulan's fidelity to her duty, but to hear her so plainly proclaim the involvement her heart plays in it is reaffirming in the best way imaginable. "Not only are you my sovereigns but you are my friends. I would gladly lay down my life for either of you."

"The feeling is mutual," Regina says before Red can speak, catching Mulan off guard. The approving gleam in Red's eyes creates a warmth in her chest that cascades down the length of her body. "However," she continues more severely, "I'll not have you off getting yourself killed on our account. I'd hate to have to replace you, dear. You're the only one of my advisers who can keep up with me on the battlefield." Which is true. Mulan is as nearly as efficient at dispatching enemies with her blade as Regina is with her magic, and that is impressive indeed.

"And don't forget that Regina is a powerful sorceress," Red injects, "If you die on us, I'll have her resurrect you just so I can transform into the wolf and lick your face until you're begging for a second more merciful death."

Mulan chuckles lightly. "Duly noted. I shall endeavor to remain among the living, if only to avoid so gruesome a demise as that by wolf slobber."

"See that you do," Red chuckles along with her. "On another note, I wanted to tell you that while I was..." she trails off, tone more serious as she glances at Regina again. Her green eyes are uncertain before returning to Mulan, and she breathes in sharply before continuing. "While I was _there_ , I met someone. Someone who has been under a sleeping curse like me."

Regina's eyes narrow in accusation. "So you do remember..."

"Yeah," says Red, abashed at being called out on her deception. "I just didn't want to get into with an audience. Much as I love Granny, Snow, and David, most of what was discussed... _there_... had nothing to do with them. In fact, we talked a lot about Mulan."

"You did?" Mulan's brows raise in surprise.

Red hums her confirmation. "And when you hear who it was I met, you'll understand. Her name is Princess Aurora, daughter of King Stefan."

Mulan goes rigid at the name as her eyes widen with astonishment. The response perks Regina's curiosity. She has not heard much about Princess Aurora since the girl was roused from Maleficent's sleeping curse and married her perfect prince. Regina had not been aware Mulan knew the Princess, though the reaction she has just witnessed has provided some context that helps draw together previously nonsensical pieces of the puzzle that is Misthaven's Commanding General. It was no secret she was running away from something when she first arrived here, and now Regina knows that something is a someone. One Princess Aurora of Drakkenhall. The question is why?

"Aurora was there?" Mulan asks as if the wind has been knocked right out of her.

Red nods in the affirmative. "We had a long chat about you, in fact. I told her you had risen to the highest office in the kingdom's military and become our most trusted advisor. I also told her you were our friend."

"Why did she want to know if you knew me?" Mulan asks hesitantly. Being already a diminutive woman physically, Regina aches to hear her sounding so small.

At the question, Red begins to practically vibrate with excitement. "She wanted to find you," she says. "She's been searching for you since you left."

Mulan's brows shoot up in surprise. "She has?"

"Yep," Red confirms. "In fact, when she found you were living in our realm, in the palace with us no less, she was so overjoyed that she couldn't contain it. She wanted me to give you a message. Would you like to hear it?"

For a moment, Mulan hesitates, and there is story there that Regina will have to ask her about at a more appropriate time. Seeing as now is not far from ideal, she waits as Mulan nibbles at her lip indecisively before finally straightening up. Shoulders back, she braces to hear the message as if it has the power to destroy her or bring her back to life. "I do. Tell me, please."

Red lifts Mulan's hand and places a tender kiss there before delivering the message. "You are more cherished than you know, my friend. Aurora wants you to know that she loves you and that Philip feels the same. They miss you so badly and want you to come home if you so desire. But she also insisted that all they have ever wanted is for you to be happy, and if that is here with Regina and I, so be it."

"Oh," Mulan breathes out, a tear finally escaping the formerly impenetrable dam of her lids.

Red then says, reaching up to brush the tear away. Mulan looks up at her, expression half hopeful and half terrified. "She also may have mentioned a willingness to uproot her family to join you should that option be preferable."

It hurts Regina physically to see so confident a woman so utterly on the precipice of being broken. Nothing rattles Mulan. Nothing. No task has ever been too gargantuan for her. Orders that would have shaken the confidence of the most seasoned commanders she tackled head on as if relishing the challenge. But just now, she had looked as lost and unsettled as a raw recruit set out on the front lines before an army of bloodthirsty ogres.

For a split second she wishes this Aurora and Philip were close by so that she could throttle them for what they have done to her friend. Her wishes are cut short, however, upon recalling Aurora's apparent readiness to place Mulan's happiness before her own. To uproot her family, as Red suggested she was willing to do, would require a selflessness and bravery that are commendable.

And then Red says the words that make Mulan literally tremble. "Since I know how you feel about staying with us, I want to invite Aurora and Philip to come live here. I mean, if that's okay with you."

Regina gapes at her wife. "You want to do what?" she asks, her political acumen already calculating the odds that such a move would cause an incident between Misthaven and Stefan's kingdom.

The crown princess of Drakkenhall cannot just up and permanently relocate to a rival realm without causing a sizable fuss. To do so, she will be forced to relinquish her title and any claim on her father's throne, something Stefan will adamantly oppose. Aurora has always been the king's greatest treasure, his pride and joy, the diamond atop his gleaming sceptre. According to Maleficent, he'd rather his kingdom burn to the ground than to lose his precious daughter, which was precisely why the dragoness sought to enact her revenge on him through an otherwise innocent child.

As a monarch, Regina cannot help but fear such a move will be seen as an aggression on her part, regardless of Aurora's own will in the matter, prompting swift retaliation. The last thing she needs after this nasty business with her sister is for another, potentially more massive conflict to break out. Especially with Drakkenhall, which is primed for war after so many of their villages have been recently destroyed. Stefan is likely still unaware the culprit behind the carnage was Zelena, who had aligned with old George, the king without a kingdom, to destroy Misthaven. The attacks in Drakkenhall were nothing more than a diversion to draw Misthaven's most capable forces to the south, making the Citadel vulnerable. None of that information will have reached Drakkenhall yet. That being the case, it wouldn't be hard for a warhawk in Stefan's council to convince him that Misthaven was at fault. Emissaries could never reach him in time to correct the inaccuracy. Stefan is a reasonable man, but so is she, and even she would be on a war footing with the limited intelligence available to him.

Of course, Stefan is also a man with whom she would prefer to avoid hostilities, if not for his capacity for ruthlessness than for the military might at his disposal. Of all the realms with which Misthaven has regular dealings, Stefan's poses the most legitimate threat. His army is, according to last estimates, thirty-three percent larger than Misthaven's, and while lacking the sheer manpower of Abigail's, boasts a cavalry second to none. Stefan's navy is nothing to sneeze at either, as it has twice as many ships of the line, all of them larger and better equipped. The sole advantage Misthaven has over Drakkenhall is sorcery, which is ironic considering Drakkenhall is the land in which dragons originated. Magic significantly evens the odds, yes, but there would be no avoiding gross casualties on both sides should war break out.

Rational caution of a monarch aside, the sensitive heart within her is moved by the courage Aurora possesses. Little doubt the Princess is perfectly aware of how her actions will be interpreted by her father. Yet, if what Red said is true, she seems almost eager to abandon everything she's ever known for the sake of love. For love of Mulan, to be specific. And that matters to Regina, because if anyone deserves happiness, it's Mulan.

Two weeks ago, she would have vehemently objected to Red's wishes regarding Aurora and Philip. Two weeks ago, she and Red would have had a heated argument over them. Cold, hard logic would have dictated she refuse such an invitation, knowing how foolish it would be to harbor Aurora and Philip taking Stefan's probable reaction into account. In her clinically detached estimation, war is the most likely outcome. But two weeks ago, she was a different person.

The fiery crucible of Red's curse has, in so brief a span, molded her into something new. A better version of herself has emerged from the flames, one that isn't merely tolerant of her wife's tendency to let her heart guide her head rather than the other way around. Now, having forsaken all else in pursuit of saving Red's life, she can better appreciate the unanticipated blessings one can receive from letting love take the reins over reason every now and then. Sometimes the brain makes mountains out of mole hills while the heart does the opposite. The trick is figuring out when to heed one over the other.

Red has the grace to blush a bit at her assumption, though she doesn't seem all that worried about Regina's reaction. "I didn't figure you would mind. I know the potential ramifications, but this is Mulan we're talking about. And the way Aurora told me they love her? Well..." she trails off and gives Regina a wink meant to sway her opinion. Damn the woman, it would have worked, too, had Regina not already decided to grant the invitation.

 _I really am going sof_ t, she thinks, and isn't even bothered that it doesn't upset her. Being a callous, unflinching, intractable woman had won her a crown, but it was an impotent diadem that could neither fulfill her deepest desires. Nor could it make her feel less miserable and wretched than she was before obtaining it. Power had been all her mother wanted, and it was what she too had been conditioned to crave. Then one day upon a frigid mountain pass, a gorgeous, fearless, sassy brunette burst onto the scene, who in epic fashion proceeded to obliterate her every concept of what life was really all about.

In the years since, Red hasn't ceased to prove, day after day, that being loved is greater than being powerful, that it's more meaningful than anything else in all the world. Love _is_ power. It is the driving force behind mercy and forgiveness, the only real exemplars of moral and ethical superiority and the sovereign arbiters of authority – for anyone can visit vengeance upon the guilty but only the truly powerful possess the inner fortitude to grant them clemency. Love can move mountains, cross vast impassable oceans, scale towers so high that they pierce the very threshold of the heavens, and refuse to surrender an inch in the face of hopeless odds. Love is the only inexhaustible resource, the only force known to humankind that redefines the boundary lines of what is and is not possible. With a boldness that defies explanation, it guides the omnipotent hand of fate, and reshapes the very fabric of existence. Where all else fails, love remains.

So if loving Red the way she deserves means that Regina is soft? So be it. She can honestly say that she will be proud to wear the label as a badge of honor.

"It's the exact same way I talk about you," Red then finishes her previous statement, and Regina gasps aloud as she suddenly realizes why Aurora and Philip are willing to risk so much to be wherever Mulan is.

Mulan, on the other hand, falters visibly as all color drains from her face. "You can't be serious! They can't...surely not...they can't _both_ lo-"

"Love you that way?" Red finishes, her smile bright enough to penetrate the thickest darkness. "I promise you, they do. I could hear it in Aurora's voice, in her heartbeat and her breathing. She's in love with you, Mulan, and if I'm any kind of true judge of human emotion by physical indicators, her insistence Philip feels the same was genuine. They want to be with you, all three of you together as a family, in every sense of that word. Is that not something you want?"

Mulan hangs her head. "It is," she whispers, "more than I could ever express. But...the three of us together? What would the kingdom think? The nobles? Those under my command?"

"To hell with them all," Regina says boldly, having heard enough to intervene. Mulan is her friend, and if being with Aurora and Philip is what will make her happy, then that is what she shall have. Standing, she moves around the foot of the bed to Mulan's side and then tips the woman's chin up so that she is looking up into her eyes. A solitary tear tracks down that ordinarily stoic face as her lower lip quivers with emotion. It's obvious from her expression alone that her heart and head are waging an internal war for dominance.

"I listened for far too long to the prattling of nobles about how untoward my love for Red is," Regina then tells Mulan in a commanding tone, willing the torn woman to receive what advice she is giving. "I endured the contempt about my so called deviance without reprisal for longer than I should have. But there came a time when I'd had enough, when I had to remind those intolerant assholes that this is _my_ kingdom, mine and Red's, and in _our kingdom_ , people are allowed to love whomever they choose so long as their partners are of suitable age and are willing participants. As far as your soldiers are concerned, do not fear. They already know you are attracted to both sexes."

Mulan gasps at hearing she has been outed to her men. "H-How did they find out?" she asks, eyes big and vulnerable.

"It's been an open secret for nearly the entire duration of your command," Regina answers. "When you spend so much time around a group of people, they tend to pick up on such things as an errant gaze that lingers as long on a female ass as a male one. That, and I handpick most of my knights. There are few fools among them, and those are not suffered lightly."

Mulan looks frightened enough at this information for Regina to gently cup her cheek. "Do not fear, dear," she then says, thumb brushing away the tear from Mulan's cheek. "You have nothing to worry about. They accept you as you are. How could they not? You lead them into battle by example rather than by distant impersonal orders. You sacrifice for them and fight for their rights and for their fair treatment, and they love you for it, just as Red and I do." After withdrawing her hand, she catches Mulan's eye. "Now, I'm going to ask you a simple question. As your Queen, I insist that you answer me candidly. Will you do that for me?"

"Yes, of course I will, my Queen," Mulan replies, a hope shining through her cloudy expression that makes Regina want to shed a tear or two herself.

"Very good," Regina nods, and then poses her question: "Mulan of the Northern Wei, daughter of Fa Zhou, Commanding General of the Armies of Misthaven, and my steadfast friend, do you wish for Princess Aurora and Prince Philip to be granted citizenship in our realm and a place in our court as befitting nobles of their rank?"

Mulan does not answer, still warring with whatever demons that keep her from taking what she wants and being happy at last. For a brief second, Regina wonders at what it might be. Mulan is infamously protective of her past, and what little Regina knows she's had to pry out of the secretive and carefully spoken woman. Little of Mulan's childhood is known to her aside from the fact that she'd been born in a kingdom far away and traveled thousands of miles in her twenty-eight years to reach the continent known abroad as The Enchanted Forest. Red was privy to more information than Regina, whose knowledge of her most trusted advisor's past was that she carried around a lot of heartbreak from it that she refused to share with anyone. That Red had not known the names of the two people Mulan was running away from when she came to Misthaven goes to show how deeply they had wounded her.

She wants to hate this Philip and Aurora for making someone so inherently strong so doubt herself and cause her to be so ashamed of her own desires that she has long denied herself what she most desires. But however much she wants to blame those two for wounding her friend, she cannot. An opportunity has been presented to rectify some of the hurts that plague Mulan, and Regina cannot deny her that, no matter how badly the situation could end.

Three years have passed since Mulan came to live with them, and in that time she has taken no lovers, nor has she even expressed a passing interest. The woman's refusal to entertain the idea of opening up her heart has often been a source of concern for Regina, not only as Mulan's friend but as her Queen. Human beings are not meant to be alone, a lesson she'd learned herself at great pains, and though Mulan liked to exude an aura of invincibility that made people assume she was impervious to baser human emotions, Regina knew differently. No one is immune to fleshly desires, and no one is immune to the power of the heart to overcome reason, which made Mulan's resistance to both all the more impressive. But should she give in now, should she let Philip and Aurora in only for them to shatter her once again, Regina is afraid that she will forever cut herself off from her humanity.

Still, it is Mulan's life and thus Mulan's decision to make.

"Mulan, listen to me," Regina sighs, giving in to her compassionate side yet again – something that seems to be happening far too often lately. "It is not wrong for you to love them, nor is it wrong for you to be happy. For once in your life, take what you want and damn the consequences! You have our permission, if that's what's holding you back, though I'll remind you that you don't need it." Regina sees Red nod fervently out of the corner of her eye. "So again I ask: do you want Aurora and Philip to live here with us?"

Mulan's lips stretch thin as she stresses over the answer. "I..." she hesitates.

Red reaches for her hand. "I know it's scary," she says as if knowing what is holding Mulan back. "I was scared too when I came to that first dinner here with Regina."

"You were?" Mulan asks, evidently not having heard this story.

"Gods, yes," Red smiles. "The entire run here I kept trying to talk myself out of it. My heart was driving me toward Regina, you see, but my head...my head was warning me that I was playing with fire and about to get my fur torched off. By the time I arrived at the Palace and was led to the Queen's private dining area, my stomach was in knots and I was shaking hard enough that my knees knocked together. I wanted to make a good impression so badly that I could barely string more than three words together the first half hour for fear of making an embarrassment of myself."

"Your flustered attempts at communication were rather cute," Regina injects, remembering how she'd felt watching Red blush for the entire first half of their meal, almost giddy yet just as wary. "She was quite intimidated, and needlessly I might add. I was every bit as anxious as she was."

"You're a pretty intimidating woman, just in case you've forgotten – which I doubt you have," Red retorts, still smiling. She then directs that sunshine at Mulan, who relaxes some at Red's unique brand of positivity. "But you know what? An hour later, we were chatting like old friends. Sometimes," she pauses to brush a strand of Mulan's hair behind her ears, "Sometimes we let our brains do all the deciding, and that is all fine and dandy in warfare and economics and politics. But in matters of love..." she trails off, glances at Regina adoringly and then back to Mulan, "well, as they say, the heart knows best. I was in love with Regina a long time before my brain ever caught up, and there hasn't been a single moment since that I regret letting my heart make the decision whether or not I should trust her. I encourage you to do the same."

"But what if..." Mulan bites her lip plaintively. "What if it goes wrong? I don't want to be an interloper or a third wheel. That's not who I am. And what if I ruin their marriage? They have a child to consider. I would never forgive myself if I was the cause for the dissolution of his or her family."

"In my experience," Regina cuts in, "you cannot let what ifs dictate your life. Take it from someone who knows: they will lead you down paths you will later wish you'd left untrod. Half of my life was spent dwelling in the shadows of them, and from what I've gathered, I surmise that you have lived yours in a similar manner."

Mulan does not admit to such aloud, but the way she avoids eye contact for a split second is tacit confirmation. She is so closing to taking the leap. All she needs is one final push, something that Regina is more than happy to give.

"When Red came into my life," she then says, "she brought a light with her that banished those shadows. But it wasn't up to her to shine it on me. I had to step out into it first. Now you are faced with the same decision. You can either remain shrouded in darkness and live safe with the knowledge your heart will never be broken again yet forever remain haunted by what could have been, or you can venture out into the sun once more and let love in.

"I cannot in good conscience mislead you with false assurances that there is no danger involved. Taking a chance on love is an enormous gamble with potentially dire consequences. What I can do is assure you that should you find it, and should it be true and deep and lasting, it will heal all of those old hurts you've wrapped around yourself like so much armor. As your friend, therefore, I encourage you to choose love. I believe...no, I know that it is worth the risk. Ultimately, however, the decision is yours to make. I will abide by your wishes, whatever they may be."

It takes nearly a minute of still and fairly tense silence for Mulan to wrangle a decision out of herself. Regina knows what it is before she speaks, simply by the sigh of relief that proceeds her speaking.

"Send for them," she says, and with those words, her countenance shifts, a gentle, content smile stretching across her lips. "If they truly want to be with me then I want to be with them, too. I've been a ghost in a shell for long enough. It's time for me to start living again."

As Red whoops with delight and hugs Mulan until the woman is protesting the tightness of her grip, Regina contents herself to sit and watch with a full heart. She is glad to have played a part, no matter how small, in making something positive happen for her friend. When she meets Mulan's gaze over Red's shoulder, they exchange affectionate smiles.

Upon breaking apart, Mulan and Red grin at each other like school girls ready to discuss the latest gossip over lunch. Regina starts to excuse herself, wanting to give them some privacy. "I'll have a raven sent at once while you two talk." She takes a step toward the door only to be stalled by a hand clamping around her wrist.

"Don't go," Red says, no longer smiling. Her visage is marred with anxiety that has guilt welling up inside Regina. She should have anticipated Red would be even more clingy than usual after what she just went through.

Normally when they are in the same room, Red is never more than five quick strides of her long legs away, and if possible, stays within arms reach. Regina has always had a theory that her canine side is to blame for her need for constant nearness when they are in any proximity to each other, and while at first, it got a little suffocating, she has by now grown used to Red's comforting presence. In many ways, Red literally is a Royal Lapdog, only the dog part encompasses an enormous wolf and the lap part has a completely different connotation than intended.

Mulan picks up quickly on Red's nervous demeanor, and rises from where she is seated awkwardly on the beside. After adjusting her leathers, she gives a respectful bow to Red and then leans down to kiss Red's forehead. Another show of affection that Regina hopes will become much less rare in the near future.

"I'm glad you're better," Mulan says, "but the hour grows late, and I have other duties I have neglected since the battle was won and you returned from Oz. Many of my men were wounded in the battle, and I should go ask after them before I complete my nightly rituals. I will have a message sent to Aurora and Philip on the way there."

"Don't run off on my account," Red says, voice small and looking a bit abashed at her show of neediness where Regina is concerned. "I just..." she sighs in self-derision. "The Big Bad Wolf is kind of a scaredy-cat right now who needs her badass wife to stay close."

"I understand, my Queen," Mulan replies, with a bow of her head. "But as I said, I really must look after my men."

"Go with my blessing, Mulan," Regina says, dismissing her subordinate in a way that is accommodating Mulan's desire to give them some time alone. Once again, she is thankful to have the intuitive woman in her life in all of her capacities. "When you see your soldiers," she adds, "give them my thanks. Tell them their Queen will not forget their bravery this day."

"Neither of them will," Red chimes in, a bit more boldly.

"I will do just that, Your Majesties," Mulan says, bows once more, and then excuses herself.


	37. Red Moon Rising

**A/N:** Warning! There be smut ahead.

 **Standard Disclaimer** : These lovely characters ain't mine, I just play with them gently. Please don't sue me. The mistakes are mine, though.

* * *

 **Chapter 36** – Red Moon Rising

When the door closes behind the departing Mulan leaving Regina at last alone with Red, she makes an executive decision. With all they've been through, they could use some quality time together. And since both in dire need of a bath, she decides that will make an excellent compromise to kill two birds with one stone. Sharing a luxurious bath has long been a favorite method of theirs to revel in their love and rejuvenate their weary bones at the same time. It will also be wonderful to get the lingering smell of the road off her, and though Red has been regularly washed by Iris and the other maids, she imagines a nice, long soak in piping hot water will be revitalizing for her as well.

Afterward, Regina has every intention of dragging her wife, irregardless of Red having technically just woke up, to bed and promptly passing out. Sleeping with Red in her arms is precisely the reward she deserves after the past week and change. When Red was cursed, she has spent her nights everywhere else beside their bed. It never felt right without Red beside her. Now that she can have that again, she isn't above such drastic means as conking her out with magic for a few hours to get it. If she has to beg on bended knee, she will do it. Anything to get the woman she loves in bed next her so she can wrap her entire body around her and not let go until the sun is high in the sky the next day. She has earned that, dammit! Hasn't she?

 _Damn straight I have,_ Regina tells herself, and with her mind made up as to their direction the rest of the evening will take, she hoists herself up from the bed. Once upright, she takes a moment to work the kinks out of her sore back and neck. Now that the constant stress and frequent spikes of adrenaline are over, she is starting to feel the physical toll this latest crucible has taken on her. In the heat of the mission, there was not much opportunity to analyze her state of bodily health, and when there was downtime, it was the farthest thing from her mind. With that not the case, the physical debts she has incurred are coming due with a vengeance. The aches and pains pretty much all over her body are going to take a while to go away. Painful as it is to admit, she is not getting any younger.

Fit as she is at forty-four, her capacity to fully recover from physical trauma or excess exertion is diminishing more than she would prefer to acknowledge, even to herself. Pride apparently has no age limit, and the brain is perpetually tardy catching up with the reality of a declining somatic condition, however glacial the onset seems. Red likes to joke that she still thinks of herself as the spring chicken she used to be rather than the cantankerous hen that she is. Those remarks usually get her a nasty glare or a biting retort or, when Regina is in a very good mood, a forceful yet playful swat to the ass.

There is a truth to it, though. It's hard for her to comprehend that more than half of her life is over. There are times the thought sends her spiraling toward depression. Those are the days most people tend to avoid her. Except Red, who refuses to let her maudlin moping ruin her mood and whose persistence in dragging Regina out of the muck is infuriatingly impressive – and undeniably effective. Contemplating their age difference, that Red being twelve years her junior means she will likely outlive her, only makes those occasions worse. At least until Red reminds her that she has plenty enough energy for them both and that they still have plenty of time left together in which to love and laugh and make indelible memories.

But there are others times that Regina is able to summon the mental fortitude to overcome the malaise all by herself. Those are the ones she uses the dwindling sands of her personal hourglass as motivation to fit as much living into her days as she possibly can. Those are the days she almost invariably makes most of those indelible memories, nine out of ten of which feature Red.

Determined to have this be one of those good days and having somewhat accomplished the objective of loosening her stiff muscles, she extends a hand to Red, who was watching her stretch intently.

"Where are we going?" Red asks, eyes hooded as she allows herself to be guided upright. Her legs are weak from disuse and it takes her a while to be able to stand under her own weight without Regina stabilizing her.

Once Red is mostly steady, Regina answers the question. "I thought you'd like to have a bath and to sleep in our bed tonight rather than in this dreadful room."

Regina is sure her face reveals her distaste for the Royal Guest Chambers. It is highly likely she will not enter them for quite a while and only then after she has instructed Iris to have the sheets and blankets and pillows either disposed of or given away to someone in need.

"Haven't I slept enough lately?" Red asks, eyes twinkling with good humor. It's just like her to crack a joke at her own expense to break the tension.

"A fair point," Regina tells her as she guides them out of the room and down the hall, Red's arm slung around her shoulder. "But I am in need of rest after my ordeal in Oz and my long, stressful evening. I would very much like to fall asleep tonight with my wife in my arms if it's not too much to ask."

Red coos dramatically as they arrive outside their chambers. "When you put it that way, I think I can make an exception." Taking the lead with visible eagerness, she slides past Regina to push the door open, then lingers in the doorway against the jamb. "Besides, I wasn't really sleeping. I mean, my body was, I guess, but the entire time I was in that room I was stuck in this weird state where I was tired and not tired all at the same time. I couldn't sleep no matter how hard I tried. It may seem like I just woke up, but it feels like I've pulled a dozen all-nighters in a row. Besides, I'd be lying if I said I didn't still feel terrible. I imagine it's almost like I'm recovering from the flu or something. So I could probably use a bit more sleep. But even if I can't, you know me. I'm always up for a good snuggle with my woman."

Regina chuckles at the adorable word vomit and then nudges her wife into the room by the shoulders. Red stumbles a bit at the light shove but recovers quickly. She adopts a put out pout as Regina enters.

"That wasn't nice."

After closing the door and latching it, Regina swirls around. Brow raised for effect, she replies, "I'm not really known for being nice, now, am I?"

"No," Red grouses, "but shouldn't I get some leeway being your spouse? Preferential treatment is supposed to be fringe benefit of marriage. And being a patient on the mend should only buy me more leeway."

Regina levels her with a saucy smirk. "Ah, but a Queen must remain objective, my darling, even behind closed doors."

An equally amorous grin spreads across Red's face before she meanders over to the bed. Quite purposefully she puts a little extra sway in her hips as she moves. Now at the edge of the corner post, she turns sideways and starts provocatively gliding a finger up and down the sheets.

"Nothing is objective behind these doors," she says, green eyes dilating enticingly. "Not that I mind. I quite enjoy being subjected to your every whim. And if my memory serves correctly, you thoroughly approve of my enthusiasm." She bites her lip and then licks it slowly once her teeth release it. A tilt of her head is followed by a deliberate movement of one leg over the other, dragging her calf up her thigh and then back down again. Regina's eyes follow every inch of progress with rapt attention, her weariness for the moment a footnote. "That's not to mention how subjective you get when you're teetering on the edge. How many times have you promised me the moon and stars if I make you cum one more time?" Red voices the question with a sonorous tone that spreads tingly warmth down low through Regina's belly. "Not a very objective request, though it is one I have yet to turn down."

"My, my," Regina drawls, her own timbre husky with arousal. "If I didn't know better, I'd think I was being seduced."

A sinful smile spreads across Red's inviting lips. "You are," she says, and then crooks a finger at Regina, motioning her to come closer. When Regina does not obey, Red deploys another strategic pout. "Why are you still all the way over there? C'mere. I wanna touch you."

Regina stares at Red as if she should already know the answer. "Hold your horses, missy. No one is touching anyone until we've had a bath. We're both bound to be disgusting...for obvious reasons."

Red rolls her eyes for show. "Fine," she says, and then plops down on the bed, already knowing what Regina is going to do. "I'll wait here 'til you get it ready."

Giving out a pleased hum, Regina meanders over and pats Red on the head. "Such a good girl. I'll have to reward you with a treat later."

"Really?" Red scoffs, rolling her eyes. "I've been awake for less than an hour and you're already on with the dog jokes. Gonna give me a scratch behind the ears next?"

"Don't tempt me. And don't look so wounded. You know I only tease because I love you." To mollify Red's wounded pride, she carefully threads her fingers through unusually disheveled locks. She is glad to see Red's expression perceptibly soften under the attention. "I would apologize for the joke, but truth be told I'm just happy to be able to make them again. It wasn't long ago that was in question."

"I know," replies Red, tugging Regina's arm down so she can lift the hand to her lips. She places a reverent kiss upon the knuckles. "To be honest, I'm happy to hear one. It means I'm here, you're here, and we're together again. I'd rather be sentenced to a lifetime of teasing about my canine side than be a dead human left to rot in that...that _place_."

Regina's brow arches. "Not high praise but beggars can't be choosers. I'll take it."

"Don't sass me, lady. You know what I mean!" Red protests with yet another eye roll. It seems she is going for a record tonight, not that Regina minds. Like Red, she'll take as many eye rolls and jesting Evil Queen references as she can get so long as they come from the woman she now knows she lives to love.

To that effect, she leans down for a brief kiss. "I do know what you mean," she says after they separate. "I suppose we're lucky that I am quite fond of dogs."

Red's eyes dance with good humor. "And me an aficionado of witty, sarcastic, incredibly beautiful and dangerous witches. That don't have green skin and red hair."

They share a light laugh that is a bit forced at the appropriate amendment. Mentions of Zelena, even in jest, will only derail their evening.

"Sorry," Red says, wincing apologetically at her reference.

"It's alright, darling," Regina says. "You didn't mean any harm. Let's just forget it was said and get on with our evening. Alright?" When Red nods, bottom lip tucked nervously between her teeth, Regina sighs and then ducks in to kiss her fretting away.

Instead of Red resisting, she relaxes into the pleasant contact and then lets out a contented little sigh that elicits a tingle in Regina's lower belly. Words cannot express how exceedingly happy she is just to be able to do such a simple thing that many couples take for granted. Not her, though, especially considering the luscious lips she gets to kiss each and every day. And not now, taking into account what she has had to go through to be given the opportunity to taste them again. It is made even more poignant since it was a kiss that ultimately saved Red's life.

This exchange, unlike the brief one moments before, is slow and exploratory. Neither are willing to rush it to an end. They need to get properly reacquainted, after all. Sadly, the eventual need for breath and the awkwardness of the position forces them apart. Regina does not pull away very far, though. Just enough so she can touch their foreheads together. At the moment, she is simply unwilling to vacate her wife's personal space. If she could, she thinks she would stay here forever. There is nothing quite like being so close to Red that she can hear and smell each breath and see the individual strands of amber woven into startling green irises. So close that she can sense their love, tangibly, as if it was not a mere abstract construct of the brain but a billion living strands of emotional energy arcing between them. It's like what happens between the coils Victor built in the lab he was supplied with to continue his experiments into electricity, only invisible and far more potent.

Describing the sensation currently enveloping her entire being would be impossible. Although she knows now that the source is the True Love they share, no developed human language can supply the adequate terminology to define it. The closest she can think of is _miraculous_ , and even that designation fails to encapsulate a phenomenon so all-consuming that it feels as if it would be possible for her to literally crawl inside of Red right now, and Red inside of her, so that they were no longer two separate individuals but one coherent, cohesive, consummate whole.

Eyes muddying with moisture, she lifts a hand to cup Red's jaw, thumb soothing a line over a kiss-plumped lower lip. "I love you. So very much."

"I love you, too," Red returns, liquid smile reflecting her own well of emotion. "From the earth to the moon and back."

"To a different world and back," Regina amends, then presses a lingering kiss to Red's forehead. "Alright," she says a moment later, after withdrawing from their embrace, "I'm going to get the bath ready. Just wait here. I won't be long."

Red nods as Regina kisses her forehead one last time, compelled for some reason that she is currently unwilling to resist. As she makes her way to the washroom, leaving Red behind lounging on their bed, she thinks that is likely to be the way of things for a while.

She has never been one for public displays of affection. Her mother made sure of that. But in the wake of this traumatic ordeal, she is not going to be able to refrain from indulging in the little acts she normally denies herself while in the company of others. Things like holding Red's hand in court or kissing her cheek while they are out and about around the castle or in the village below. It's not that she never does these things, but they are rare treats she only allows when she is feeling vulnerable, uncertain, or so buoyant with happiness that she simply cannot refrain from physical contact with the woman she loves. The nobles likely will disapprove of behavior they will no doubt deem impolite for an individual of her stature. The people will understand, though. She knows this with absolute certainty.

In the weeks and month after Regina made Red her Queen, she was approached by citizens of every walk who wished to express their approval over their ruler's bold decision. Marrying for love rather than for political benefits, no matter what the nobility or rival monarchs thought, made her into somewhat of a folk hero. While Regina was always courteous to these well-wishers and maintained diligent control over her composure, inside she ballooned with confidence and pride. The validation of her people meant more to her than she believed it could.

The nobility had been another case altogether. As expected, many sneered down their noses at her – and in particular at Red – when they thought she wasn't looking. Already unpopular with them for her imperious attitude and general lack of giving a damn what they thought about anything, she hadn't cared a whit for their disapproval. Nor does she now. They will just have to get used to her being a little more open with her affection, because if this fiasco has taught her anything it is that human existence is terribly fragile and exceedingly precious. Hearty and strong as Red is, she could be taken away at any time or contrariwise her taken from Red. Time is not a guaranteed resource that can be measured out, accounted and planned for, but something that has to be seized moment by moment. Love is even more so. If she takes nothing else away from this experience, it will be that costly lesson.

Life is far too fleeting to waste on the opinions of stodgy old aristocrats and entitled brats. She will kiss her wife in public whenever and however much she wants. She will hold Red's hand whenever she gets the urge. She will hug her wife at her pleasure. And if anyone dares to voice their objection, they will get a reintroduction to the woman who crushed her own sister's heart without blinking.

Now perched upon the lip of the tub, Regina turns on the tap, adjusts the heat to a temperature at her maximum threshold, then watches as it begins to fill. Once at a suitable level, she cuts the flow and breathes in deeply of the steam billowing up from the tub, suffusing the room with humid warmth.

Now that the bath is prepared, she goes about procuring towels, sponges, bath soap, and a special formula for cleansing hair. The chemical concoction was introduced to the kingdom by none other than Victor Frankenstein, who hails from a world where using such a product is wildly popular among ladies of high standing. She places all of these things within reach upon a silver stand with a flat tray resting atop. Next, she adds fragrance to the water, a tulip scent that Red is fond of, and then a handful of ground chamomile to ease her aching muscles. She stirs them in by hand until the mixture is just right.

When she returns to the bedroom a few minutes later, she finds Red laying on her side facing the door. Hands tucked up under her cheek, she is watching for Regina through hooded eyes.

With a tender smile, Regina crosses over to the bed and offers her hand. "Come, my love, let's get you in a nice, warm bath," she says, and then helps Red up when she takes the proffered appendage.

Red hums in anticipation when they enter the wash room and breathes in deeply. "Smells heavenly," she comments, and allows herself to be lead over to the tub where Regina deftly divests her of clothing.

"In you go," commands Regina once Red is nude. She holds her hand to help her step into the hot water and notes with satisfaction that Red's eyes slide shut upon feeling it contact her skin. "Good?" she asks, rhetorically because she knows it has to feel wonderful considering Red has been abed for almost two weeks.

Red nods and then sighs with utter pleasure. "Feels absolutely wonderful," she replies as she dips the rest of her body in the water. As tall as she is, it rises to a level just above her stark pink nipples. Regina does her best not to focus on how erect they are and pebbled around the areola, or else their relaxing bath will turn into something she is not sure Red is ready for.

Instead, she lifts her eyes to meet twinkling greens that are all too perceptive. She has been caught staring, and despite it not being the first time in the past month alone, she feels her face flush.

"Are you planning to join me or were you just going to watch?" Red asks, brow raising in good humor.

Regina cocks her hip, and then with a snap of her fingers, removes her own clothing. Now herself stark naked under her wife's heavy lidded perusal, a self-satisfied smirk forms on her face. "Is this more to your liking, my Queen?" she says, feeling smug at having turned the tables.

Red bites her lip affectedly. " _Mmhmm_. Very much." She then scoots up just a tad and shoots a pleading glance up at Regina. "Hold me?"

There was need to ask, and Regina tells her so as she climbs into the tub and settles in behind Red's athletic frame. One of the few upsides to the sleeping curse is that it the afflicted do not suffer from muscular atrophy. Red may have been confined to a bed for weeks and has lost some weight, but she is still fairly firm and toned.

Once Regina is leaning against the back of the tub, she pulls Red toward her by the hips so that her back is flush with Regina's front. She then loops her arms around a flat tummy to secure them together. She can feel Red's entire body relax as she breathes in deeply and then releases it even more slowly. Regina echoes the sentiments as serenity soaks into her weary muscles. In the exquisitely hot water, the unbearable tension she has carried around since Red ate that damn apple is being drawn out from her as if by some heretofore unknown method of osmosis.

No further words are spoken over a good while as they comfortably laze in the bath. Red remains nestled in Regina's arms, utterly content to the point of being boneless. Despite her earlier protests that she has slept enough already, she nods off at least three times. Once, she wakes when Regina chuckles, the second time when Regina readjusts her arms around her waist, and lastly – and most humorously – when she starts to snore only to rouse herself because of how loud she is. Regina cannot help but laugh as her wife's adorable confusion morphs into a blush upon realizing what had happened.

"Stop laughing at me! You're so mean. I couldn't help it..." Red weakly protests, chuckling herself. "That's so embarrassing. I can't believe I did that."

"I can," Regina replies, rubbing her hands up Red's arms. "You're exhausted. Your body is no doubt fatigued from prolonged inactivity and who knows what kind of aftereffects the curse will have on you. You're allowed to snore like a drunken pirate after what you've been through. Besides, you always do when you're overtired. It doesn't bother me, though."

Red turns her head so Regina can see her wry grin. "So you've said. Now at least I know you've not been pulling my leg. Hard to deny that I snore when I woke myself up."

"That it is," Regina says with a smile. "Don't be too hard on yourself, though. I happen to think it's cute."

"I'm glad one of us does," Red returns after a scoff, but her glimmering eyes tell Regina that the complement hit home.

In response, Regina returns her arms around Red, this time looping them just under her breasts. Another silence ensues, just as peaceful as the one before, and Regina is content to revel in it for another few minutes. But eventually the water cools to where she is growing uncomfortable. That, and her ass has gone numb.

After maneuvering them both up out of their relaxed positions, she grabs the soap and lathers it on a sponge until a foamy layer forms upon the squishy bath implement. She is very thorough and equally as delicate as she washes every inch of her wife's skin. The entire time, Red sits still, pliant under Regina's hands, though sometimes she casts appreciative glances behind her shoulder that practically ooze with adoration. Once Red is good and clean, Regina summons a cup into her hand and then instructs her to duck her head beneath the water. She does so, pinching her nose after scooting forward just a bit. When she comes back up, Regina takes the bottle containing the hair soap and pours a generous portion on Red's crown.

Most of their consumption of this product is on Red, whose hair is so thick that Regina often marvels that it does not tangle into an unworkable mess of a morning. Or by day's end. And yet, by some miracle of nature, it remains in pristine curls that are the envy of nearly every woman in the castle. It is an equal wonder to her that Red is so fascinated by her own raven tresses, which she often strokes of a night in awe, praising its ebony shade and silken texture. Regina much prefers her wife's lush mane of deep earthen brown. She loves to brush it and braid it and play her fingers through it while they chit chat in bed and bury her hands in it while they kiss until their lips and jaws are sore. A particular favorite is to tug on fistfuls while aggressively taking Red from behind. That always gets an explosive response.

Shuddering at the thought of the last time she'd done that, Regina clamps down on the hints of arousal pooling in her belly as she begins massaging the formula into Red's hair and scalp. It's a simple delight most would probably find odd, but she relishes the way Red sways sluggishly with each stroke of her fingers and hums in an almost continuous manner more akin to a cat purring than any note of bliss she has ever heard emanate from her spouses canine counterpart. Red nods off twice more under her diligent ministrations, only to startle back to awareness when her head slumps down so far her chin hits her chest.

After Red's hair has been washed, Regina helps her duck back under the water just far enough that her hair is submerged, and then rinses it with practiced movements. Though in most noble homes it is a servant's job to attend to the bathing and washing of the mistress's hair, Regina enjoys taking care of Red's too much and is far too possessive to allow any other set of hands on her wife. Most of her peers would say she's behaving like an infidel stooping so low, but if that's so, she's glad to be one. There is special kind of joy in performing so basic a task for the woman she loves even though Red is perfectly capable of doing it herself. That Red allows it, even enjoys it as much as Regina does, makes her feel closer to her in a way that even sex cannot. Not a better way or a worse way, just a different way that speaks to the complex yet fulfilling nature of their relationship.

With Red squeaky clean, all pink skinned and glowing, Regina allows her to return the favor. Although she does not fall asleep while Red washes her hair, she closes her eyes and relishes the feel of long, dexterous fingers working the formula into her scalp. By the time her cleansing is over, she feels utterly tranquil.

Not wanting either of them to get cold due to the rapidly chilling water, she stands and helps Red to do the same before stepping out and wrapping herself up in her towel. Once she is done, she helps Red out of the tub the same way she'd helped her in then presents her with her own downy towel which is used to quickly and efficiently dry her off. Regina resists the urge to make a joke warning Red against shaking the water from her hair in a manner befitting her lycanthropic condition. It doesn't take long for them to dry off, and once both are finished with their subsequent nightly rituals, Regina magicks them both into lavish robes so they can make their way back into the bedroom.

Rather than clambering onto the bed on her side as Regina expects her to, Red crosses over to the edge of the bed and sits, then crosses her legs in a way that causes the material of her robe to ride up her thighs. It is a calculated move that Regina is appreciative of more than she is irritated by how effective it is.

Gazing through her lashes, Red repeats her earlier gesture, beckoning Regina over by a tantalizing wave of her index finger. "C'mere. I still wanna touch you and you can't say no now."

Part of Regina is cautioning her against giving in to the primal urges pressing against the threshold of her logical mind. But the other part, the bigger part, needs the connection with Red so urgently that she cannot refuse the summons. Flushing with arousal, she pads over to Red, deliberately moving in the predatory fashion she is famous for in more than one realm. She notices it has the desired effect upon her wife – as it often does.

Red sucks her lower lip into her mouth as she watches Regina's progress. "You're so damn sexy," she says. "It never ceases to amaze me how just watching you walk turns me on."

When Regina is standing at the bedside, towering over her seated wife, she studies Red for any signs of exhaustion or lingering physical effects of the curse. To her general relief, she finds none, only healthy skin flushed and bright eyes dilated with arousal. Yet again she is thankful that Red is a werewolf with preternatural healing capabilities. But even those have been taxed by the curse, and Regina knows Red is still somewhat weak for having laid abed five days. So while she is yearning to make love to her wife, she is also worried about whether or not Red is ready for such a...strenuous activity.

"Eager as I am to amaze you even more, are you sure you're up for this?" she asks, sincere in wanting to hear the truth. "Because if you're not, I can wait."

"Don't you know?" Red says, eyes gleaming in the night as hooks her legs over Regina's hips and draws Regina close. "Tonight is a blood moon. I'm suddenly feeling...invigorated. That in combination with the bath did the trick I guess."

"Lucky me," Regina smirks, and then glaces toward the window. She notes that there is a slightly crimson hue to the light filtering through and makes a noise of surprise. She hadn't known it was to be a blood moon but finds the lunar event to be a sign of encouragement.

Superstitious religions dictate that blood moons are bad omens, that they precede calamitous events. Regina, however, is not a woman of religion but of science. Magic is often misconstrued among those of no inclination as an art, to many a black art, but such supposition is incorrect. Of all she learned from Rumplestiltskin, respect for the scientific approach to magic stuck with her the most ardently. As such, she has always prided herself on staying caught up with the latest scientific theories circulating the realms. There is one of note concerning blood moons that has been making its way through academia recently.

This particular theory posits that blood moons only occur when the moon arranges itself between the sun and the earth, creating the magnificent red glow for which it is named. Whether or not this is accurate or provable is not of concern with her, however, so much as the personal symbolic ramifications. Werewolf associations to the moon aside, to her, Red has always been the sun as she is the light of her life who shined so brightly that the darkness was driven away. Up until now, she has been content to bask in that brilliance just as the moon does during a normal night where it is reflecting the light of the sun back onto the earth – or so another popular theory states. But in this moment, she needs so much more than to merely be a reflective surface for Red's light. She wants to absorb it, to let it fill her up from the inside out until it is bleeding out of her very pores. She wants to be consumed by it, burnt up and then reintegrated like a phoenix risen from the ashes, just with love instead of fire as the catalyst.

"No, lucky _me_ ," Red says, breaking through Regina's contemplation as she reaches up and begins to tug at the tie of Regina's robe until it falls loose. With a shrug of Regina's shoulders, the material pools around her feet, leaving her bare to her wife for the second time in as many minutes. Red's eyes to instantly go black as primal lust takes hold. But she does not pounce as Regina expects her to. Instead she maintains eye contact, cheeks increasingly ruddy and her expression full of reverential awe that does something funny to Regina's stomach every time she sees it.

"You went to another world for me," Red says, and then winds her arms around Regina at the junction of her rear and thighs. She leans in close, head craned upward so that their eyes stay locked. "You killed your own sister for me. Before all this, you married me, made me – a nobody from nowhere – into a Queen. But of all that you have done for me, the greatest thing is that you opened your heart to me and loved me like Snow always said you could. I'm so, so lucky. The luckiest girl to ever live, I think. Sometimes I have to pinch myself just to make sure you're not a dream."

Pausing, Red pulls her closer and then leans in to press a kiss over her heart. Raising up, she places another at the swell of her breasts, then slowly works her arms up Regina's torso to pull her down for a heated, open-mouthed kiss. Regina moans her approval into Red's mouth, relishing the taste of the mint paste they used to clean their teeth. There were times over the past five days she'd thought to never enjoy this again, to feel the texture of Red's lips and tongue, and become so lost in her that she forgets where she is, what she is, and sometimes even who she is. The electric sensations and overpowering emotions the intimate contact produce send her careening over the edge of self-control. Even if she wanted to stop, she couldn't now.

After Red breaks away, she whines at the loss. Red smiles at the noise then cups her face between her hands. "You know, for the longest time I didn't believe Snow about you," she says, continuing her earlier thought. "I thought she was deluding herself. But now that I've experienced what it's like to be loved by you, I understand why she never gave up hope. Your love is the greatest treasure in all of the universe, and by some impossibly fortunate stroke of fate, you have chosen to lavish it upon me. I don't know what I did to deserve it, but I do know that I'll never stop being grateful. Never. You are the best thing that ever happened to me and I'm going to spend the rest of my life making sure you never forget it."

"That was quite a speech," Regina replies, exposed and vulnerable from how much emotion she is feeling, yet utterly safe in the knowledge that Red will never abuse that gift. "Did you practice it in front of the mirror?" The joke is aimed at Red's penchant for doing just that.

As one of the two ruling Queens in the realm, Red has to make speeches on occasion, and though she loathes them because of how nervous she gets, her performances never cease to impress Regina. She'd stumbled her way through the first few because she'd procrastinated in writing them, but after that, she got into the practice of drafting them well ahead of time so she could practicing them over and over in front of the full sized mirror in their bedroom.

As an experience orator, Regina helped her nail down the essentials such as posture, enunciation, inflection, and eye contact, and relentlessly drilled her until was so proficient she could command an audience almost as effectively as Regina could. Red's natural charisma only enhanced her ability to weave a spell over people when she spoke, so she made a natural ambassador of the realm in other kingdoms that often invited them to attend a function as a couple. At such events, a small speech is expected to be made out of respect. They'd won over many influential people because of the combination of Red's magnetic personality and Regina's imposing presence. They really were quite the power couple, and it was not just bias that made Regina think that, although it certainly played a part.

"As a matter of fact, I did not," Red replies, and then releases Regina's face. She scoots back onto the bed and beckons her again with her finger. Once Regina is hovering over her, preparing to kiss her, Red hooks a leg over her hips and rolls Regina onto her back, landing low on her hips. She shifts atop her now-prone lover and then grinds down just north of her apex in a way that she knows drives Regina crazy with lust. Which it does. Regina groans with pleasure, not only at the delightful pressure so close to where she needs it _oh-so-badly_ , but at the feel of Red's already slick, uncovered core resting atop of her own bare flesh. She can feel the heat emanating from it, an invitation that she is never able to deny. Red hums pleasantly at her manifesting lust, but just as she starts to reach for the promised land, Red raises her hips and proceeds to grind them down a second time. Then again, and again, punctuating each effort with her subsequent words. "I'll have you...know...that was completely...off the…cuff."

Regina strains against her wife's familiar weight, hips pushing upward searching to reestablish contact. "I'm...impressed," she responds, then snaps her fingers, divesting Red of her half-discarded robe so that she can grasp at a suddenly bared posterior. While Regina massages the taut muscles of her derriere, Red responds with a more throaty hum, biting her lip so hard it turns white as she begins rocking her hips in earnest as. Red's overflowing arousal, along with the unreal friction being created upon her own hypersensitive flesh, is so delicious that Regina shudders as she emits a wanton groan.

A wicked grin spreads across Red's lips at the sound. "If you think that was impressive," she breathes, still rolling and thrusting her hips, eyes losing focus with every contact of flesh to flesh, "just wait. 'Cause I'm fixing to blow your damn mind."

She leans down, mouth hanging open, until their torsos are parallel, breasts pressing together as she slides her hips just enough to the side to wedge her legs between Regina's. With her elbows on either side of Regina's head supporting her weight, Red uses deliberate movements to tilt her head and lean down for a searing kiss that presses the back of Regina's head into the pillow. The angle is perfect, allowing her to deepen the kiss when Regina opens up to her. Their tongues meet, tangling and tasting with probing brushes that are familiar but still unbearably erotic.

They kiss for what seems like an eternity, exchanging soulful looks in between, loving brushes of noses, and languid, pressured grinding of their hips so that their thighs are rubbing precisely where the friction is most effective. The probing kisses in concert with their movements has Regina soon feeling the onset of an orgasm, which is surprising as she normally requires penetration to reach climax.

She tears her mouth away with a curt swear and then squeezes Red's ass tighter, almost violently pulling her hips down as she bucks upward with wild abandon. A string of high-pitched moans fly from her lips between frenetic pants, and as a wall of white descends over her vision, she feels that familiar tingling spread from her belly to her toes. Now thrusting with all her might, it takes only seconds for her orgasm to hit. It slams into her like a tempest into a helpless tree, snapping the trunk of her reality and then carrying her away on gale winds of ecstasy. Shuddering from head to toe beneath the steady pressure of Red's weight, her eyes roll back into her skull as her internal walls clench at a maddening staccato pace.

When the waves of rapture subside, her body goes limp and she pants out another line of colorful oaths. Typically it takes her a bit to recover from such an intense orgasm, but unfortunately – or rather _fortunately –_ she is to be afforded no respite. All too soon after a series of audible praises being punctuated by worshipful kisses all over her face, Red begins to slither down her body, kissing and suckling as she journeys southward. She pauses to linger over Regina's breasts, cupping one then pinching the hardened nipple as she circles laves at the other with a velvet tongue. Regina's hips buck involuntarily as Red involves her teeth in the delicious offensive by gingerly tugging the nipple taut with her teeth only to release it at as it approaches the edges of pain. Now squirming beneath Red, Regina groans when Red abruptly switches up her attack, her hot and eager mouth seeking out the other breast as her hand kneads at the one she just abandoned. Red treats it to equal attention before scraping her teeth gently up that pebbled peak, drawing out a breathy whimper that causes Red to chuckle in delight as she diligently labors to stimulate Regina past the point of endurance.

Needing friction back on her womanhood with a fervor that defies all logic, Regina deftly slides her hand between her legs, finds the engorged bundle of nerves at the apex, and begins frantically circling the tips of her first two fingers over it. Within seconds she becomes lost in a haze of pleasure that has her vision turning white and her legs trembling and her face burning hotter than it has in years. It doesn't take long before she feels another even bigger orgasm building, so she speeds up the pace of her fingers circling over her clit in a bid to hasten its arrival. But just before climax cascades over the threshold of her consciousness, Red stops all attention on her breasts, grasps her hand and forcibly removes it from her throbbing nether region.

"Now, now. Not so fast," Red says, grinning when Regina curses at her. Without responding, she then resumes kissing and licking a track down the center of Regina's abdomen.

Knowing what's about to happen, Regina lifts up on her elbows to watch as Red's sinfully lush lips travel over her belly button and meander past her waistline. She tucks her lips between her teeth as Red descends low enough to nuzzle her nose into the neatly groomed thatch of black hair covering her pubic bone then drag it downwards, each diagonal swipe taking her ever closer to Regina's glistening slit until she is poised directly over it. Eyes fluttering closed, Red takes a deep drag of air, her chest rumbling in what sounds strangely like a purr as she savors the scent of Regina's abundant arousal.

" _Mmmm_. You smell _so fucking good_..."

Growling through her throat, Regina threads a hand into Red's mane of dark brown curls and yanks her head toward the desired destination. "I know. You've told me a million times. Now stop talking and fuck me. I want to watch myself cum in your mouth."

Red groans, dilated eyes turning almost black. "Fuck, Regina!"

"That's the idea," Regina retorts, _panting_ with pure want. "So get on with it already." Without warning, she then roughly tugs Red's head down closer to emphasize how desperate she is and is immediately rewarded for her bout of lust induced and entirely characteristic rudeness.

Eyes liquid with desire, nostrils flared, Red dutifully obeys by wielding that immensely talented tongue of hers to lick a stripe from the bottom of Regina's swollen nether lips all the way to the top and then back again. She repeats this process half a dozen times before settling her hands on either side of Regina's entrance and spreading her out like those clams Ariel fetched for them in Chansiréne, one of which Red pried open to reveal a gleaming pearl. Ever the tease, Red refuses to claim her prize, instead neglecting the fleshly pearl before her in favor of licking all around Regina's inner and outer labia until Regina is keening and writhing and fisting handfuls of brown hair with the same ruthless intensity she grips the reins of a horse at full gallop. Just when Regina feels she can no longer stand the exquisite torment, Red ups the ante by tortuously swirling her tongue around her entrance until Regina finally breaks.

"Fuck, Red!" she shouts, so loud half the castle probably heard, including Snow and Granny – not that she is bothered by that at all in her current state of looming hysteria. "Stop teasing. _Please!_ I need you inside me. Now!"

"With pleasure," Red replies, voice dripping with wondrous intent. Her eyes flash yellow then she surges forward, burying her face in Regina's aching cunt and then enthusiastically plunges her long tongue as deeply inside as it will reach.

Stars dance through Regina's field of vision, little white fuzzy dots in nonsensical patterns her brain cannot fathom, as Red tongues her inner walls with the finesse of an accomplished dancer and the force of a hammer descending upon an anvil. In a manic bid to keep herself from floating away into the yawning abyss of pleasure threatening to engulf her, Regina doubles her hold on Red's head with both hands, and throws her energy into vocalizing encouragements that grow increasingly hoarse and vehement as her wife works her special brand of magic over that one spot on the ceiling of her drenched channel that makes her entire body quiver, and her toes curl, and her eyes roll up in the back of her head.

"Oh. Oh, Gods, yes! Yes, right there. That's it! Just like that. Fuck, Red! I'm so close. I'm so... _fuck!_ —so fucking close. Don't stop. Don't you dare stop. Don't you fucking dare stop. That's it. I'm gonna...I'm gonna...cu-"

And then just as she starts to approach the precipice of completion, Red suddenly withdraws and in one fluid movement clamps her lips over her clit and begins to suck as if her life depended upon it. Which it did in sense, because if she hadn't been so wise as to immediately turn her attention on an even more sensitive area, Regina was just about to _kill her_ for edging her yet again without permission. As it is, there is little more that she can do than turn loose of Red's hair, collapse against the bed, and scream into her cupped hands as her entire body seizes up.

The unprecedented orgasm that tears through Regina's insides makes her feel as if she's being turned inside out, set on fire, and doused in liquid bliss all at the same time. How long she is caught in the throes of a rapture that could not possible be described, she does not know. All she does know is that when sense and control over her body returns, she cracks her eyes open to find Red nestled into her side, torso propped up on one elbow, leaning over her with a positively feral grin.

"That was a good one. But your mind still isn't quite blown. Not just yet anyway," she says, then unceremoniously plunges two fingers knuckle deep inside Regina's weeping, hyper-sensitive entrance.

Eyes bulging open, Regina cannot stop a strangled gasp from being wrenched out of her as her legs reflexively fall open at the welcome intrusion. Hips surging forward, she props herself on her elbows, chin pressed against her chest to watch as talented fingers pump in and out of her in deliciously punishing strokes. She observes with an almost perverse satisfaction at the way her flesh stretches and wraps around Red's long digits, which draw out thin, opaque strings of liquid arousal with every thrust.

Jaw hanging slack, unable to generate even a moan for the intensity of her pleasure, she hears Red chuckle through the blood rushing and pulsing in her ears. A few seconds later, Red snuggles in closer to arrange her head alongside Regina's, cheek-to-cheek, so that they can watch together while she performs her own feat of magic. There is no equivalent spell in all the tomes that exist which could reproduce this feeling.

Just when it seems like it can't possibly get any better, Red starts talking as she continues she to work Regina up to a crescendo of such obscene ecstasy that the rest of the world is entirely drown out. "You like that?" she asks rhetorically, voice rumbling through her chest. Regina casts a glassy-eyed glance at her around a groan of affirmation which makes Red's visage twist with satisfaction. Somehow, she maneuvers one of Regina's legs between her thighs and starts gyrating her hips against them. Her sopping core feels incredible rubbing up and down Regina's thigh. "You feel so good," she then breathes, keeping eye contact as she drives her fingers in and out again and again and again while simultaneously grinding herself ever-faster upon Regina's leg. "Does this feel good? Am I making you feel as good you make me?"

"Yes, yes! So good. So...so...good," Regina cries, mouth still hanging open around her incessant moans, gasps, and shouts of rapture. A hoarse groan tears loose when Red suddenly adds a third finger and curls them upward as she slides them out. When she plunges them back in, her thumb finds Regina's painfully throbbing nub and begins rubbing circles and slashes and curlicues over it.

Red then turns to capture Regina's lips, swallowing up another shout. When she tries to withdraw a few seconds later, Regina chases and reclaims her mouth, tongue slipping past the threshold of plump lips. They go on to exchange a series of sloppy kisses, though Regina can hardly even breathe due to the overload of sensation thrumming through every last nerve in her body. During the last kiss, Red latches on to Regina's tongue and sucks it in perfect rhythm with fingers ruthlessly pummeling her electrified core.

After the kiss is broken for want of air, Red places her head back alongside Regina's and increases the pace of her thrusting while bucking her hips in an even more frenzied manner against Regina's leg. Her own mouth hanging open now, she shivers around a sinful moan. "Oh..." she gasps, "Fuck! 'M so close. I want you to cum with me. Can you do that for me, love? Can you cum with me?"

Unable to respond, Regina allows her head to loll back, unable to support it anymore as Red coaxes out an orgasm that she can tell will shatter her consciousness into a million pieces.

Eyes clenched shut, she breathes out a litany that gets louder with every repetition until she is keening. "Yes, yes, yes, _yes! Yes! Yes! Yes!_ " And with one last thrust of long fingers and a pressured swipe of a thumb on her clit, Regina's vision goes white as a roiling fire engulfs her entire body. She collapses to the bed, a writhing, delirious heap. Her juices flow so copiously as to coat Red's fingers and then stream down her throbbing flesh, staining her exquisitely crafted sheets. She is so euphoric that she is only vaguely aware of Red's own orgasm arriving, announced by a shuddering from head to toe before she slumps against Regina with her head coming to rest on her breast. They are both panting erratically as they descend from their atmospheric highs.

"Wow," Red sighs out, breath cold against Regina's flesh due to how overheated she is. "That was... _wow_."

"A gross understatement if I ever heard one," Regina says, her voice quaking almost as badly as her body is with the aftershocks of that reality-altering orgasm. She feels Red settling next to her, curling into her body, so she reaches for the sheets and pulls them up around their waists. "Thank you for that," she whispers, and then presses a kiss into Red's crown. "It was incredible – _you_ are incredible. I love you so much."

Red looks up, smiling that adoring smile that melts Regina's insides every single time. "Not nearly as amazing as you are," she replies, then lifts up for a gentle, loving kiss. After they separate, she lays her head back down against Regina's breast and snuggles up. "And I love you, too, by the way," she adds, slipping a hand down Regina's stomach, off her body, and then down her forearm where she threads their hands together. "More than anything. More than life itself. It's all I thought about while I was alone in... _there_. How you are my whole world. And I know I've said it a million times tonight, but I'm so lucky, just so, so damn lucky to be a part of your life. It haunted me that didn't tell you all of that before it happened.

"But now that I'm better and we're here together again, I just need you to know that there is almost nothing I wouldn't do for you. If you had ever made me choose between you and Snow, I would have chosen you. I would have abandoned Snow forever to be by your side without a doubt and without hesitation. I know that's not what happened and believe me, I'm grateful that you love me enough to let me be in her life. But you are _the_ love of my life. I will always choose you. Always and forever."

Tears prick at Regina's eyes, though she refuses to let them fall. She's tired of crying and too happy to let her crazy emotions rule her any longer. "I feel the same, sweetheart," she says, brushing a hand absently through Red's sweat dampened hair. "It's why I did what I did to save you. I promised you on our wedding day that our lives would be forever entwined and I meant it. I would rather be dead than live without you. You mean more to me than power or wealth or titles or any of those things that people waste themselves to attain. Going to Oz, killing my sister, well...in my view those were small gestures in comparison to what you give me every single day: love and happiness I'll never deserve."

"Of course you deserve it, my heroic Midnight Queen," Red whispers.

The title is a nickname Red gave her long ago after being caught awake one too many nights in a row. That night once Red was asleep, she eased out of bed and then padded over to great bay window in their chambers where she sat upon cushioned seat beneath to stare out at the night sky. It was a clear night affording an excellent view of the moon which hung large but not yet full upon the horizon. A canopy of stars dotted the endless void that glittered and twinkled with their merry interstellar conversations. It was winter and a steady snow was falling, covering the surrounding forests in a blanket of white. Transfixed and in awe, all Regina could do was stare up at the wonder before as her mind contemplated the incomprehensible beauty behind.

She can remember thinking that she really ought to pinch herself just to make sure her happiness wasn't all a dream. After eighteen months together, she still felt an irrational need to make certain her beloved really was asleep in their bed, gently snoring and totally content with her youthful face a portrait none of the Great Masters of brush and paint could ever hope to faithfully capture and that glorious mane of hair splayed out behind her as she laid on her side.

Regina knew without looking that Red had one hand tucked under her pillow while the other was subconsciously reaching for the bedmate who was supposed to be laying beside her but was conspicuously absent. Red hated occupying their enormous bed all by herself, lamented being left alone when Regina needed to burn the midnight oil working on a treaty or some other such demand of state and could not afford sleep for some hours. The pouts and whines that woman could produce were inhumanly effective at swaying Regina from her duties. But sometimes she managed to resist Red's hold over her for the sake of being a good Queen, and those nights were the ones she would shuffle into their chambers, dead tired and highly stressed, only to find Red tossing and turning, deep-set frown marring her features, groaning with discontent as she grasped at the empty half of the bed where Regina normally would be. Regina had thought it cute but the more it happened the more she became concerned. She was eventually forced to broach the subject with Red when the restlessness turned into thrashing and moaning.

* * *

" _I didn't realize I was doing that," Red said, brows furrowed as they sat together upon the edge of the bed. She nibbled at her lip a bit before turning slightly bashful green eyes up to Regina. "As you know, the wolf has imprinted on you, so I guess it's just her discomfort at your absence manifesting. I'm sorry."_

 _Regina did know that, otherwise she wouldn't tolerate it when the massive beast her lover became during Wolf's Time – which was soon to be upon them – curled up in bed with her of a night. "It's alright," she said, then reached over to take Red's hand and rested them in her lover's silk-covered lap. "I'm not angry, just worried. I don't like seeing you so disturbed. I suppose I'll have to curtail my late hours during Wolf's Time."_

 _Red cringed, then ducked her head to hide her face behind a curtain of hair. "I don't want to be a burden. I can just ask the doc for something to put me under more deeply."_

" _You will do no such thing," said Regina, tone stern because she was a little offended Red could believe she'd think her a burden. She tucked Red's hair back behind her ear and tipped her chin up and around to meet her eyes. "You are not a burden to me, Red. I love you. Your comfort and security comes first to me. Certainly it is more important than the tedious business of state that can wait until morning. If the council doesn't approve, I'll turn them all into toads. Now, I won't hear any more objections. From now on during Wolf's Time I will be here with you. Understand?"_

 _Red simply nodded, lip tucked between her teeth, before ducking in for a kiss._

* * *

Though they kept that routine religiously, when the moon was waning or waxing, Red would still have to brave the bed alone as she did that night. When she woke up nearly an hour later, she ambled over to the window and then draped herself around Regina's back, legs curling around her waist and arms wrapped firmly around her shoulders.

" _What's got you bothered, my Midnight Queen,_ " she'd asked, and that's how the nickname came into being.

Presently, it is evident to Regina that Red is as affected by her speech as Regina was hers. Red only ever resorts to calling her by that title when overly sentimental. After nuzzling her head against Regina's breast, Red heaves out a contented sigh that Regina then mimics.

"And you are far too kind, my brave and lovely little wolf," she replies, then pulls her wife, whose love is the light of the sun against her skin and the air she breathes into her lungs, even tighter into her side with the arm wrapped low around a perfectly flared hip. "Now, let's you and I get some rest. We've a long day ahead of us tomorrow."

Regina smiles tenderly when Red nods, already lidded, then whispers, "'Kay. Love you." Within ten seconds, she goes completely still.

Regina closes her eyes and whispers a prayer of thanks to whatever gods might exist for the miracle in her arms. And if none do, then she extends it to the universe itself. She is still smiling when she falls asleep no more than a minute or two later.

That night, Regina dreams vividly of the friends she left behind in Oz. In her dream, Dorothy and Ozma are in Misthaven on a visit, and she's so happy to see them that she embraces them in full view of the servants and nobles milling about the courtyard of the castle. In the next scene, they are picnicking in the little meadow adjacent to the Dark Palace. She and Red are parents, and as their children carouse in the tall grass, laughter and joy ring out all around that fill her heart until it is fit to burst.

It is a dream that, unbeknownst to her, will eventually come true.


	38. Ceremonial Preparations

**Standard Disclaimer** : These lovely characters ain't mine, I just play with them gently. Please don't sue me. The mistakes are mine, though.

* * *

 **Chapter 3** **7** – Ceremonial Preparations

 **One Year Later**

"Are you ready yet, darling?" Regina asks, resisting the urge to poke her head around the privacy screen. Red has been shrouded behind it for the past several minutes, trying on one of the dresses she'd brought from home.

For some reason, Red had elected to forsake dressing in plain view of one another by sequestering herself behind the thin paper barrier. Regina is not exactly sure why there is any need for privacy since they see each other naked on a regular basis. She suspects it has something to do with how nervous Red is about the upcoming ceremony.

This afternoon they are set to attend an event of monumental importance to kingdoms spanning two worlds. Red has been almost as anxious about formalizing this alliance as she was about being crowned, which is interesting because the night before their wedding, she was so nervous she threw up. There was no vomiting last night, thank the gods, but she had all but worn a rut in the gleaming marble flooring of their chambers as if she were a prisoner on the verge of visiting one of King Stefan's infamous guillotines. The only pause to the frenetic pacing was to beg Regina for yet another practice run of the precise timing required of them as they walked the aisle toward their friends, never mind that she had committed it to memory more than a month before. As a matter of fact, she was so tightly wound the only reason she slept at all last night was because Regina finally got frustrated with the tossing and turning and arranged a sleeping remedy to be brought to their room. Red had the good sense to take it without complaint, having understood by Regina's tight expression that resistance was not a viable option.

While their wedding was a grand affair attended by foreign royals, dignitaries from near and far, and as many ordinary citizens as could pack the citadel, the upcoming ceremony is on an another scale altogether. Initiating the accord between Oz, Misthaven, and the White Kingdom is certain to be the sort of spectacle that dwarfs all others in terms of scale and impact. Rare is the occasion upon which three powerful kingdoms officially establish an alliance ensuring their mutual defense, guaranteeing free trade between them, and securing universal rights for their respective citizens. When most monarchs cannot be bothered to care for petty issues that plague their realms, what they are doing today will make history. It is of no small consequence that Red will play an integral part in its inauguration.

Needless to say, the pressure on them both is enormous. In the interest of fairness, however, only one of them was groomed from the time she could read and write for exactly this sort of pivotal moment. Regina spent her formative years as royal stock learning how to overcome nervousness and carefully manage her demeanor in high pressure situations. On a daily she was made to practice skills and develop intangible virtues every good ruler should possess, which ensured she was more than ready to tackle any demands that responsibility might thrust upon her. Including the formation of an unprecedented alliance that may very well drastically alter the political landscapes of two disparate worlds. She was, in a manner of speaking, born to do this.

Red, on the other hand, spent her childhood believing the highest level of success she could attain would be to become a wife, mother, and homemaker. Admirable aspirations as those are to any woman whose heart lies in that direction, societal and cultural expectations stifled any dreams of expanding beyond the limits of those well-defined borders. In Perrault, the agrarian village Red's grandmother raised her in, there were precious few opportunities outside of cottage industries for young women ambitious enough to seek professional fulfillment earning a living. Eugenia herself was an example of this, having among other things scraped out a modest income knitting blankets, sewing garments of nearly every fashion popular in the region, and raising chickens for poultry and eggs to sell. Red had assumed that if she was lucky, that would be her inheritance once she married and had children.

To say the least, it is a far cry from raising and maintaining two dozen chickens to representing a country a quarter of a million inhabitants strong. Considering the extreme dichotomy of those expectations, it is really a wonder Red has handled her transition as well as she has. Some irrational fretting is to be expected. Frankly, if that's the worst she does she'll have done a better job adapting than Regina would have in her place when she had only done so out of necessity. The truth is, as a young woman she would have been happy to exchange places with Red having viewed the traditional roles many women view as a prison as an idyllic aspiration. But that is beside the point.

The fact that the ceremony will offer Red the first opportunity to observe Ozma in her natural environment has only further inflamed Red's agitation. Upon their arrival, the enchanting Queen of Oz had unfortunately been caught up in unexpected business to the east that required her immediate attention, thus rendering her unable to greet her guests at the Royal Palace. Dorothy received them in her place. Being a courteous host, Ozma was kind enough to leave profuse apologies by way of her lover in addition to a handwritten letter addressed to both Regina and Red suggesting they all – along with the Charmings – spend the following day together milling about the city. The note also included a reiteration of the procedures involved in officiating the alliance she had conveyed on her two-day solo visit – using a magic pair of silver slippers – a month prior. It then concluded with an assurance that she would return in time for the ceremony to begin as scheduled. The latter was a relief to Regina, who generally did not tolerate delays very well.

With Ozma absent, Dorothy stepped fluidly into the role of welcoming committee and guide. The afternoon of their arrival, she took them on an official tour of the Palace, which was a constant source of amazement in and of itself. All of the shadows cast by its previous occupant have vanished and were replaced by an effervescent light that seemed to radiate from every surface. No explanation was require for Regina to deduce that the gloom of the Wicked Witch had all but been eradicated by Ozma's magic. The tapestries were more colorful, the carpets more lush, and the wood and metal trimmings more brilliant. There was a lively background hum in the air that lent an aura of excitement to every breath. Every nook and cranny her eyes fell upon felt rejuvenated by the return of the embodiment of all that is good about the fantastical land of Oz. All over again, Regina was awestruck by the majestic power inherent to her half-fairy friend.

In all, the tour took much longer than expected, as the Royal Palace of Oz is at the very least twice as large as the Dark Palace. During those hours, Snow's prediction over a year before came true: Red and Dorothy made fast friends. The two tall brunettes chatted up a storm as Dorothy led them down various passageways, including the secret pathway they'd utilized to escape the Wheelers, and introduced them to each wing of the castle. Most of the conversation between the two was Red assaulting their guide with a barrage of questions, wide eyed with wonder, while Dorothy answered as best she could in between amused glances back at Regina. For her part, Regina contented herself to linger a step behind so she could enjoy her wife's childlike enthusiasm for their new environment. As usual, it was endlessly adorable.

After the tour, Dorothy took them to one of the many Royal Guest chambers located along the wide, now well-lit and vibrantly decorated corridor that was once an inanimate representation of Zelena's evil reign. The entire palace seemed to be brimming with vital energy, whereas before it was dull and dead, but it the change was especially noticeable there. The vibrancy visible in every stone made Regina think back to when Ozma reentered the world, and how the Emerald City began to shine and nature itself reawakened as if out of a deep slumber in recognition of their sovereign's return, for she brought life with her wherever she went. And as Dorothy bade her temporary goodbyes around noon, Regina found herself longing to once more be graced with Ozma's presence, if only to bask in the same inexplicable force that restored these once inanimate objects into so much more.

In the year that has passed since departing Oz, she has thought of Ozma often, of her angelic beauty and pervasive goodness, of the vast stores of power that lurk just beneath the surface of her porcelain skin merely waiting for a command from its mistress to be unleashed. Power to build worlds and to tear them down rests within Ozma's slight frame, and yet she is as unassuming in her regality and supernatural strength as Red is in hers. That demur humility is one of the reasons Regina is so very fond of her, for it not only reminds her of Red but serves as proof that people of such immense capabilities do not have to succumb to the enticing temptations of darkness. One can be good and powerful at the same time. That the two do not have to be mutually exclusive gives her hope that one day she, too, might learn to use her magic for the sake of all that is good and right in the world.

With the ceremony permanently ratifying the alliance between their kingdoms drawing near, Regina can feel the butterflies begin to stir in her own stomach. She will soon be reunited with Ozma, and as foreign a sensation as it is for her to feel that way for someone who is only a friend, there is a wonderful buzz attached to that anticipation. She has never experienced a platonic love so intense before, and it is something she finds herself quite enthralled by. It inspires her to wish she was able to form more such bonds, perhaps even with other people whose love for her far outstrips hers for them. One notable example is Snow, who has more than adequately proven her own affections by her actions.

With Snow, however, the past has always posed an insurmountable obstacle. Daniel's death has lingered between them for so long like a ghastly, provocative shadow over their relationship, souring something that could have been beautiful and transforming it into something ugly. Over the past year, various attempts have been made to further establish the lines of communication between them, and although Regina has publicly accepted and encouraged those efforts, privately she has withheld her consent for Snow to feel welcome in the Dark Palace whenever she wishes. Although Red's patience with this reluctance has been above and beyond the call of duty, Regina can tell she has been growing increasingly exasperated.

Red had initially harbored an unrealistic hope that the relationship between Regina and Snow would vastly improve after their joint adventure to save her life. It was not, Regina had to delicately explain, a reasonable expectation. When Red required a bit more convincing, she told her that just because there was not an immediate reconciliation including tearful hugs and kisses and open invitations for spur of the moment visits did not mean that there had not been any reconciliation at all. While it hadn't taken the form Red would have preferred, at least visible progress was being made. This seemed to have satisfied Red for the moment. But who's to say how long that will last?

Snow, while clearly hurt by Regina's withdrawal, has exercised vastly improved wisdom in handling the snail's pace their relations were taking. Evidently she was listening back in Oz when Regina told her, though perhaps not in these exact terms, that there were far too many years of bitterness on her end for the past to be so hastily expunged. Thus far, and to her credit, Snow has shown a commendable willingness to let Regina set the tempo, and that shows every sign of continuing indefinitely.

But now that those feelings Regina experienced in Ozma's cabin are being reawakened, she can see that she has belabored the situation with Snow longer than merited. Out of habit she had reverted to the status quo rather than owning up to her mistakes and failures regarding her tragic fall from grace. Snow has more than earned a chance to be an active part of her life again, and it is high time to give it to her.

As terrifying a prospect as that is, returning to an Oz positively brimming with life and hope and joy because of what she and Snow accomplished has inspired her. At last, buoyed by that abundance of revitalizing energy, she feels ready to take another step forward with her former step-daughter and to truly allow for the possibility of a friendship to burgeon between them.

The task of building anything positive with Snow appears daunting at first blush, but then again so did the possibility of finding love again after Daniel was so cruelly taken from her. Yet she had done just that, and with Snow's best friend of all people. Pragmatist though she is, there are no evident coincidences there. Through the person of Red, the hand of fate was at work bringing her and Snow back together. To deny that would be to deny that the moon loves the sun when every available observation is loudly proclaiming otherwise. She is many things, most of them unseemly, but she is neither blind nor a fool.

"You're awfully deep in thought over there," Red asks, now milling about the chambers. Dorothy had left a while ago to prepare Snow and Charming for their entrance to the ceremony, which will precede Regina and Red's. Before departing, she placed an amiable kiss to Red's cheek that was returned with equal affection and then promised to fetch them personally when it was their time to make an entrance.

That Dorothy and Red hit it off so famously came as no great surprise. Not only was Red a personable woman with an infectious vivaciousness, but Dorothy had this genuine earnestness to her that was deeply endearing to everyone except insanely jealous, green-skinned witches. Their complementary personalities made striking up a fast friendship almost inevitable. Within an hour the two were behaving as if they had known one another for years, sharing laughs over funny stories during their respective adventures through life and then mooning over their significant others.

Dorothy was particularly generous with her commentary of how ' _absolutely adorable_ ' a couple Red and Regina were, and that she could ' _totally see_ ' how in love they were just by the way they looked at each other. Red, of course, turned into an effusive fountain of sentimentality over the compliments. Regina, on the other hand, received them with the elegance befitting a queen. And if she preened a bit and stood closer to her wife than was technically appropriate in order to claim her territory by holding hands, then she was simply exercising a prerogative of her station.

"Hey," Red's voice calls again, drawing Regina's attention away from her own thoughts. When she looks up, it dawns on her that Red is no longer behind the privacy screen. Instead she is standing before a large square mirror, clad only in her shift as she peers at Regina through the glass. She is also holding a gorgeous looking green gown – so thoughtfully provided by Ozma – up to her frame. Concern cuts a deep furrow into her brow when Regina catches her eyes. "Are you okay, hon? You looked a thousand miles away just now."

Regina smiles reassuringly to diffuse her wife's worry. "I'm fine. Just thinking about how glad I am you and Dorothy got along so well."

"Me, too," Red replies with her own smile, her anxieties forgotten. She returns her attention to studying the dress, imagining how it will look on her via her reflection. As she talks, her gaze alternates between that task and holding Regina's gaze in the mirror. "Her life has been pretty full of craziness, kinda like mine, so I think we had that common ground to build on. She's a pretty awesome lady, but I'd already expected that from the glowing way you talked about her. There is a wicked sense of humor hiding behind that serious facade, though. I wasn't expecting that."

"You don't know the half of it," Regina confirms, eyes crinkling with mirth as she remembers Dorothy's interactions with a certain half-fairy. "Just wait until you see her with Ozma. Their bickering is almost as amusing as ours."

"Well, you know what I say about that," Red responds, shifting to the side just a bit to admire the length of the gown. "Fussing is a sign of a healthy relationship. It means their love is secure enough to endure a little testiness and some edgy jesting without either getting offended."

Regina stands and smooths her hand down her dress, a comfortable sapphire blue satin number tied at the waist by a silver chain. "My thoughts exactly," she says as she waltzes over to stand behind her wife, admiring the way the gown looks against her pale skin. "By the way, I think you will look absolutely ravishing in this. Are you going to wear it instead of the one you brought along?"

Red nods thoughtfully. "I really like it and green suits me, so I think I will." She then nervously nibbles at her bottom lip and peers at Regina through her lashes. "If that won't throw us off, I mean," she amends. "I know we were planning on a coordinated look. I don't wanna mess that up if it'll bother you."

The reference is to the dresses they had chosen back home, which were matching colors in order to visibly project the united front that they were in reality. Red changing her mind now is an inconvenience to be sure, but in the grand scheme of things a minor one.

When they'd arrived in their chambers with Dorothy, there were two complementary gowns hanging from the hooks next to the closet. Ozma, Dorothy explained, had provided them as an alternative to consider, and then explained that they were of identical cut but differing colors. The green was for Red and ironically the red for Regina. Dorothy then assured them, after gesturing toward their luggage an attendant had ferried to their chambers, that their own clothes would be perfectly acceptable as well if that was their preference. While Ozma's selections were gorgeous, Regina was set on her choice.

Apparently Red has been swayed, though, and she is far too arrested by how alluring she will look to mind even a little bit. Red would be gorgeous in a worn out burlap sack, but in this stunning garment she will be absolutely ravishing.

"Not at all. I'm rather looking forward to seeing you in this as a matter of fact." She does not bother to hide an appreciative leer.

Red flushes under her appraisal with an approval that is a stark contrast to the shy reactions she used to have when they barely knew one another and were still tiptoeing around their attraction. "You won't have to wait long," she replies, eyes smoldering. "But you need to stop looking at me like that or we're going to be late."

"That's a pity," Regina says, and then gives Red a final pointed once over before firmly swatting her ass. She grins at Red's indignant yelp before sidling back over to the bed, where she sits primly upon the edge, utterly unrepentant. "This bed likely hasn't seen any action in some time. It needs proper and thorough testing." To punctuate the statement, she bounces on it a few times, brows raised suggestively. She grins at the way Red's pupils dilate as they follow the resultant jiggling of her breasts.

"Oh, I assure you we will do just that," Red says, eyes black with desire before she sucks in a deep, calming breath that returns them to a familiar jade. " _Tonight_."

Regina frowns at the end of her fun. "When did you get to be such a bore? Here we are in a foreign country on a foreign planet with a ridiculously comfortable bed all at our disposal, and my hot-blooded wife who is normally insatiable is turning down sex. Where's your sense of romance and adventure?"

"Sewn into the hidden pocket of my pants back home," Red retorts, then sticks out her tongue childishly. "It's your fault I'm such a bore, by the way. You're the one that made me a Queen. I'm just trying to act like one instead of the wanton mistress I used to be."

Rather than further tease Red about a subject she can be sensitive over, Regina softens her gaze. "And what a marvelous Queen you've turned out to be," she mollifies, meaning every word. "I will grant that perhaps now is not the time for a romp when we have such important matter to attend to shortly. Tonight, though…tonight I intend to ensure you are made perfectly aware of just how marvelous you are. Perhaps I'll even give Oz a proper introduction to werewolves by making you howl."

" _Mmmmmm_ ," Red hums, allowing her eyes glaze over in thoughtful anticipation. A shudder passes through her tall frame. "I look forward to that, especially since I can feel her close to the surface." She is, of course, speaking of her wolf, who is a presence in Red's mind even outside of Wolf's Time. "Being in a new world is making her extra frisky. Guess you get to be the beneficiary."

"Lucky me," Regina returns, echoing another night about a year ago when she'd said the same words. She worries her bottom lip at the low, seductive tone Red's voice had taken on. The sexuality that is pouring off her threatens to batter her wavering restraint to pieces. To calm herself lest she lose control, she decides a little separation is in order. She indicates toward a privacy screen nearby with her head, now seeing the wisdom in Red's decision to use it. "Why don't you go ahead and change while I put the rest of our things away."

Red raises a brow. They had neglected to unpack because they hadn't had time, and this has to strike her as an odd moment to change up their routine. "You don't want to dress first?"

Normally at home, Regina gets ready first because she is most used to dealing with the bothersome mechanics of sartorial finery. Once she is done, she helps Red into her clothes. At first, the arrangement was practical because of Red's inexperience with gowns and dresses that are worth more gold than her grandmother's entire estate. Now, however, it is a comfortable rhythm of their every day life together. Regina is loathe to break it but cannot think of an alternative means of distraction so far away from home in a palace she is not used to. And she needs one, or else she's going to make them late. Damn that woman for being so irresistible...

To set Red at ease, she adopts a nonchalant posture and plasters a smirk across her lips. "You forget, dear, I have magic. I can be done in the snap of a finger if I so choose." She doesn't most of the time, preferring the monotony and familiarity of doing some tasks manually. Exceptions are made, however, and this will be one of them.

Rather than argue, Red simply nods and starts to move in behind the privacy screen. Regina stops her short by calling her name, having just thought of something. Red turns, brow raised inquisitively.

"Would you like me to braid your hair before or after?" Regina asks, already knowing what design she will implement.

Red's respondent grin is bright enough to light half the palace up. "Before please. If you don't mind. It will make it easier to slip into the dress. Plus, you know much I enjoy having you braid my hair."

"And I do so love to accommodate you," Regina smiles, then gestures to a nearby chair that she summons closer. It slides along the floor, squeaking as it goes, causing Red to giggle and comment about her nifty parlor tricks. "What can I say, they keep those of short attention spans easily entertained," she retorts, eyes sparkling with mischief. "Pooches are especially exciteable when I summon sticks for them to fetch."

"Hey!" Red pouts at the playful jab and crosses her arms over her chest. "That wasn't nice."

"Obviously I wasn't referring to you, sweetheart," Regina lies, and Red narrows her eyes in accusation. "Okay, fine," she admits with a sigh, "I might have been alluding to your other half, but it was all in good fun."

Red does not budge, features set obstinately. "I'm not sitting until you apologize. I am a majestic wolf! Not some common mutt who rolls over and plays fetch for a belly scratch."

Regina rolls her eyes and scoffs, but apologies anyway. Red really has made her soft. "Fine. I'm sorry, _mi amada_. In no way do I believe you to be on the level of a simple canine, even if you do appreciate a good belly rub. Especially when you are in heat." She exaggerates the last part a bit for effect, so that Red chuckles in exasperation and relaxes her posture.

"Can't argue with the last bit," Red grins wryly. "But I don't recall you complaining much about it either. In fact, you seem to get particularly excited when I go into heat."

Regina shrugs, albeit with a cherry red blush. "I can't help it. For me, it's like Yule, only better because I get to enjoy it twice per year."

" _We_ get to enjoy it," Red amends, winking as she finally sashays over to the chair, then sits. "A lot, I might add."

Regina hums her affirmation as she threads her fingers into the hair at Red's temple, thinking fondly of some of those memorable periods where the door containing Red's libido comes entirely unhinged for nearly three solid weeks. As she begins separating strands with nimble fingers and practiced movements Red sits with her back erect and completely still like the good girl she is. The process only takes a few minutes. Once finished, Regina steps back to admire her handiwork, then decides to add a little flair by magically curling Red's enviable curls even more than usual so that the free strands tumble down her shoulders in ringlets.

She nods in approval of her work. A pattern she had learned from Iris just for this occasion, she has intricately braided Red's hair into thick twin braids which run along the side of her head from her temples to the back where they merge into another design of thinner braided twists and loops that reach just past her shoulder blades where her curls end. It is the best job she has done yet, so she gives herself a well deserved mental pat on the back.

"Alright, all done," she says, and then shoos Red away to get dressed.

After disappearing behind the screen, Red begins to divest herself of her shift, and the shadowed sight of it pooling about her ankles just about does Regina in. As a distraction, she quickly busies herself with arranging their week's worth of clothing into the closet to get them through their scheduled stay in Oz. Next, she goes about unpacking her own dress to ease the drain on her magic, however little that small amendment affords. The mundane tasks settle her mind, and she fluidly accomplishes them.

After her busy work is done, she eyes the privacy screen, noting that Red is still getting dressed and taking her sweet time. She rolls her eyes fondly, then settles herself into the chair Red so recently vacated, closes her eyes, and waits. When a few more minutes pass with only the shuffling of clothing, she pries open one eye to find that Red is still behind the screen, though she appears to be dressed judging by the way she is turning side to side in self-appraisal.

Smiling to herself at how much she loves that quirky woman, she calls out. Red whirls around at the sound of Regina's voice – which Regina knows because of her shadow – and calls out, "Just a second." She turns back to the secondary mirror at her disposal in the changing area and proceeds to worry her hands over the fabric of her dress, smoothing down wrinkles Regina is is positive are not there. She then heaves a deep breath. "Okay, I'm coming out."

Regina stands and magics herself into the dress she'd chosen to bring along, wanting to be ready when Red reveals herself at last. When the lavender smoke of her magic clears, she is arrayed in a black gown with sharp crimson accents that fit her personality more accurately than Ozma's less audacious gown. To complete her look, she has her hair woven into an elegant bun, her favorite tiara sitting atop her head. It is a golden design with spikes lined along the base tipped by crescent moon shaped rubies. Red gifted it to her for their first wedding anniversary – " _A crown fit for my Midnight Queen_ ," she'd said, and was rewarded with a kiss that didn't stay innocent for very long – and that made it her favorite diadem. Around her neck is a necklace with an apple shaped pendant crafted from, once again, a flawless ruby. This piece she had commissioned on her own to complement what she liked to call her Midnight Crown. The whole ensemble is probably her favorite, and to preserve its stunning effect, she only breaks it out on two special occasions that happen annually. One is Red's birthday bash and the other is their wedding anniversary. She made an exception today because of the unique circumstances. That, and Red had lit up like Lumiere when she mentioned she was thinking of wearing it for the alliance ceremony.

Regina smooths a hand down her bodice and takes a deep breath, watching intently as Red rounds the edge of the barrier and steps out into the room. Upon catching sight of her, Regina's lungs briefly seize up and her heart begins to thud heavily against her breastbone. She is beyond happy that her kindhearted wife did not have the heart to turn down Ozma's thoughtful offer because she is totally enthralled.

A glorious vision in the emerald green gown graciously provided by Ozma, Red simply radiates splendor. Her pale skin appears to glow, starkly offset as it is by the rich jade green material, and her eyes glimmer even more brilliantly. The fabric of the sleeveless gown clings tightly to her svelte frame, highlighting delicate curves that Regina's fingers itch to trace. Her eyes trace the familiar planes from the neckline that dips down to expose only the barest hints of decolletage then wraps over the delicate swell of modest breasts. From there, she follows the gentle flaring of hips where the material is cinched by an ornate golden chain belt fashioned as if it were multiple vines threading around one another that converge in the center at an exquisitely crafted blooming poppy, which is made of what appears to be an arrangement of opaque crimson-tinted crystals. The smooth skirts then flare out as they flow down about Red's ankles, and an emerald-bejeweled train perhaps a foot and a half long trails along behind her, shimmering in the light provided by sunlight penetrating the room's opaque windows; the train jingles a merry crystalline song with every step she takes.

To complete the ensemble, Red's bare upper arms and wrists are bound with golden bangles that are crested with emeralds bearing interlocking oval sigils. Regina recognizes them as representing the three kingdoms of the alliance: Ozma's sigil for Oz, the White family crest for the realm ruled by Snow and Charming, and her own family crest for Misthaven. In addition, Red has also woven miniature red poppies from the plant in their room into the braids along her temples, and a golden chain sits atop the crown of her head with a pendant attached shaped like a crescent moon made of yet another ruby which dangles down over the center of her forehead. The theme does not escape Regina, and again she is grateful that Ozma is such a detail-oriented individual. In all, the effect of the decorative hairdo on Red's angular face is simply marvelous, only enhancing her large and expressive green eyes, highly-arched brows, pale skin with ruddy cheeks, and perfect pink lips.

Mentally noting to praise Ozma for such exquisite attentiveness, she marvels at how the gown and the accessories come together into a gorgeous, coherent whole. In comparison to the goddess in green before her, Regina feels altogether inadequate. Red would disagree, of course, having often proclaimed Regina's beauty greater than her own and more than sufficient to conquer any hearts she wishes to bend to her will without the need for magic. The thing is she doesn't want to bend anyone to her will, nor does she desire any worship aside from that which is so effusively bestowed upon her by her own personal angel. It is at times like this when she can do little else but stand in awe of her wife's peerless beauty – both inside and out – and wonder at how blessed she is to be greeted by it each and every morning. She truly is the luckiest woman on any earth.

"You are an absolute vision," she gushes, approaching to take Red's hands, which are currently being worried together at her waist.

Red bites her lip demurely. "A good one, I hope."

Regina raises Red's hands to her lips to place feather-lite kisses upon her knuckles, careful not to smear her lip paint. "Good does not begin to describe how exquisite you look," she then replies. "The heavens themselves are paltry in comparison. The sun seethes and the moon weeps for envy while the stars kneel in reverence."

" _Aww_ , thanks," Red says, blushing prettily from the praise.

There was a time Red would have hidden her face from such adulation. Only time and fervent efforts on Regina's behalf have taught her how to better take a compliment, which is something she is saturated by during social functions with noble lord and ladies looking to make a good impression. Regina herself has never struggled with receiving such flattery, as anything that feeds her ego is readily acceptable in her eyes. But Red was a sheltered girl quite unused to being fawned over, so she'd had to adjust to being made an object of worship once she was crowned. To her credit, she has made great strides in accepting these accolades, though Regina still has to hear the occasional complaint when Red has endured " _just about enough being slobbered over._ "

"So," Regina says after inhaling a measured breath, "are you ready to face the music?"

Red bites her lip diffidently. "I think so. This is a good day and what we're doing is a good thing for so many people, so I'm mostly happy about it. But I can't lie about how nervous I am."

Since become a Queen in her own right, Red has presided over many state functions, such as the naming and launching of the kingdom's first ship of the line, the _Queens of Misthaven._ On the Harvest Moon in autumn, she officiates the convocation by giving a speech upon the ramparts before the enormous crowds that gather in the citadel each year. After concluding, she shifts into her wolfen form to howl an announcement of the festival's commencement at the glowing orange moon. But none of those events hold the significance of what is going to happen today.

Today, they are set to sign an interplanetary treaty, the first of its kind in the history of the Enchanted Forest. Dorothy had informed them earlier that she and Ozma expect at least fifty thousand celebrants to crowd the Emerald City, and Regina can easily see that conservative estimate being toppled. When their small procession passed through the gates of the city, an ear-deafening cheer had erupted from the masses lining the road from the grand gate to the Royal Palace. The numbers were easily in the tens of thousands already. Vast experience dealing with crowds and high pressure situations aside, even she is a bit anxious about the ceremony, so she can certainly understand Red's nervousness.

"You'll do fine, my love," she encourages Red, squeezing her hands. "Just hold on to those happy thoughts of the bright future this alliance will ring in: one I hope is full of peace and prosperity for us all."

"And friendship," Red adds, smiling now despite the fading hint of apprehension lingering about her. "Dorothy was really sweet, and I can't wait to see Ozma in action. And you already know how I feel about Snow and Charming."

"That I do," Regina grins wryly. "I don't hold it against you, by the way." Red chuckles in amused exasperation. "Like I said, I'm glad you and Dorothy got along so well. I had expected you would. As you said, the two of you are very similar. And Ozma...well, let's just say I am very much looking forward to you seeing her in her element. She is..." Regina trails off, struggling to figure out how best to describe a woman who is nearly indescribable. "Well, I knew her all of two days and I consider her perhaps my dearest friend. That should tell you something. You saw bits and pieces of what drew me to her when she visited last month. But here in Oz at the seat of her power? Let's just say she is magical beyond description. I've never met anyone like her before..."

"The feeling is mutual in case you were wondering," says Dorothy, and both Regina and Red swirl to find her leaning against the door frame, adorned in a more formal version of her famous blue and white gingham dress. Her brown hair is parted down the middle and braided into pig-tails, tied at the ends with ribbons the color of a clear summer sky. She looks girlish but beautiful, and her blue eyes twinkle with a fondness for them both that sends frissons of pleasant warmth through Regina's chest.

"How did you..." Red gapes at Dorothy as if she has materialized in the doorway rather than used the conventional method of entering a room. It is quite a feat to sneak up on a werewolf, yet Dorothy has done just that.

"I probably should have announced myself," Dorothy explains with a modest touch of apology, "but I heard you two talking and presumed that you were both dressed, so I came in. I think you were too lost in each other to hear the door open."

"With good reason as you can see," Regina replies, not even a little upset with Dorothy at the intrusion as she side-eyes her gorgeous wife.

"Yes, I do see that," Dorothy says, and then lopes over to Red wearing an appreciative smirk. "My, my, don't you look simply scrumptious."

"She does, indeed," Regina agrees proudly, and then playfully glares at her friend. "But keep your greedy mittens off her farm girl, she's all mine."

"Hey!" Red protests, back straightening as she bristles with mock offense. "While that may be true, I am quite capable of fending off advances all on my own thank you very much."

"Something you have to do often, is it?" Dorothy needles, lopsided grin firmly in place. "Looking like that, I imagine you have to beat them off with a stick."

Red grins mischievously. "Not with Regina around, I don't. Her hateful glares are a repellent to brazen rakes of either sex."

Although Dorothy chuckles lightly at the comment as if it makes perfect sense to her, Regina squares her shoulders proudly. To her, it is high praise, jest or not. "A Queen must protect what's hers, even if against profligate eyes and hands," she says, causing Red's grin to stretch even wider.

Dorothy sighs affectedly. "You two are just too much," she says, and to Red offers, "and you are everything she said you would be and more. I am still owed a story about how you two fell in love, but as much as I'd love to sit back and bask in all that adorableness, the ceremony will begin soon. Are you both ready to go?"

After a glance at Red, who is smoothing a slightly unsteady hand down her dress, Regina inclines her head in affirmation. "We are."

Dorothy nods. "In that case, please follow me." She then swivels neatly in place, and makes her way out of the room with Regina and Red following closely behind.

"Ozma has been practically abuzz all week, flitting about like a bird in a panic trying to get the palace ready and such," Dorothy says as she leads them through the hallway, around a corner, and then instead of bearing to the left down the hallway toward the scullery, she guides them straight through the t-intersection. "I told her, ' _slow down, doll, everything is going to be fine,_ ' but she just wouldn't listen, you know? Stubborn woman. She needs everything to be perfect, especially...Oh!" she then stops for a brief moment just past the intersection to face Regina and Red, her eyes lingering pointedly on Regina. "Ozma has prepared a surprise for the ceremony, I just want to warn you so you don't get caught unprepared." When Regina's eyes widen, Dorothy hastily adds assurances, "It's not bad or anything. It's just...well, it's ambitious. She is sure it's possible though, so I'm asking you to trust her, even though I know you already do."

"Why ask then?" Regina poses, curious.

"Only because what she's going to need your help to perform a spell that will probably seem impossible," Dorothy explains. "Or so she's said. I don't know much about magic but I've learned never to question Ozma when it comes to such things."

"Sounds intriguing," Red comments, and Regina nods her agreement.

"Oh, it is," Dorothy smiles, eyes twinkling again. "It will change everything for us all." And with that mysterious bookend, she turns and begins walking again. "Come along now," she calls over her shoulder, "I've already escorted Snow and Charming. Everyone is waiting on us."

Regina feels Red stiffen beside her. "Everyone?" she asks, swallowing thickly.

Dorothy hums her confirmation. "The most esteemed guests are always presented last. Ozma insisted that was the two of you."

Regina's entire body suffuses with warmth at hearing Ozma has given her and Red the enormous honor of being the last party introduced. It serves as reinforcement to Dorothy's earlier insistence that Ozma fully reciprocates Regina's feelings of friendship. A year has gone by since their introduction and those feelings have not faded even a little, rather growing with absence as old proverbs affirm that they should. The two days spent in each other's company a month before only stoked the flame further. Regina imagines ten years will not be enough to quench it.

Tears bite at her eyes as fondness wells up within her breast, but she does not allow them to fall lest they ruin the makeup she'd so carefully applied to her face. "Thank you both for so high an honor," she says instead of gushing out her affection not only for Ozma but for Dorothy as well. That she is tempted to at all is a strange compulsion since before coming to Oz she had no real friends to speak of since she was a young lady who befriended a simple stable boy so long ago. And while she could consider her relationship with Red as having started with friendship, she knows that is not true. Red has always been much more. With Dorothy and Ozma, though it is especially true of Ozma, she'd felt an instant kinship she had never experienced before, as if the bond they shared as true friends was sufficient to meet a need she did not know she had.

"Speak nothing of it," Dorothy replies, waving her hand as if the gesture of Regina and Red being given the most prominent position in the ceremony was a foregone conclusion. "The kingdom you two have built is what all should strive to emulate. Both Ozma and I are firm in that belief."

"You speak as if you've personally inspected our realm," Red responds, not suspicious at all, but evidently having caught something in Dorothy's tone that was worth investigating. 

"Maybe because I have," Dorothy replies as she leads them down a final corridor bearing south, which flares out at the end into a grand vestibule. "About two month after you left Oz, I used my enchanted slippers to investigate both of the realms with which we are forging this alliance. The council insisted that we reconnoiter our potential allies before signing the treaty. Ozma, of course, objected, as did I, but we both saw the wisdom in being prudent. So, I took it upon myself to journey through both Misthaven and the White Kingdom for a period of four months. In the process, I learned all I could about the people that occupied your lands, how they felt about their monarchs, surveyed the kingdoms for strengths and weaknesses, etc. Not to assess a potential foe, mind you," she clarifies, perhaps having sensed Regina's growing concern. "Ozma has never went to war during her reign, nor shall she ever if there is recourse to prevent it. We simply wanted to better understand the peoples we were allying with."

"And what did you discover?" Regina asks, careful to keep her voice steady.

"Pretty much exactly what I expected," Dorothy replies. "That the White Kingdom is ruled by a benevolent monarchy whom the people adore and that the defenses of the realm are lacking in many areas because it is a peaceful place not frequent to strife. But there is much bravery there and an innocence that is precious. They will make excellent allies." 

"And of Misthaven?" Red then inquires, sounding as nervous as Regina feels about Dorothy's assessment of their realm.

The brunette warrior casts a smile over her shoulder. "Misthaven was most impressive of all," she says. "It's people are tenderhearted but hardy and strong. And though they love their monarchs, they also respectfully fear them because the kingdom is one ruled by law and order, and with a stern hand when necessary. Misthaven, I found, is ultimately a reflection of it's Queens, for it is powerful and resilient like one of them yet kind and tenacious like the other. They, too, shall make a most excellent ally. As I reported back to the council, Oz is fortunate to have made such friends."

"We are equally fortunate," Regina says, feeling extraordinarily proud of her people for having made such a good impression without knowing they were being tested.

"I'm glad we're all in agreement," Dorothy then says as they enter the vestibule.

Regina stills for a moment to study the wondrous architecture of the circular room. Marble columns perhaps three feet wide line the inside of the room in a circle. Within the walls are oval shapes insets with pedestals built into them spaced perhaps four feet apart and upon which set marble busts of various men and women of dignified appearance.

"Amazing isn't it?" Dorothy asks, drawing her attention. "I had the same reaction the first time I came here. It's all of the past Kings and Queens of Oz, Ozma's heritage. Each commissioned a bust upon their official succession that was put on display on the first anniversary of their death to commemorate their reign. I've seen Ozma's, and though her relatives are all worthy of respect and remembrance, she outshines them all."

"Hopefully hers won't be seen here for many long centuries," Regina comments, aware that Ozma being a half-fairy makes her immortal, meaning her reign could theoretically last forever.

Regina doubts Ozma will have the heart to carry on ruling once Dorothy dies the natural death of mortals. It is likely, in her opinion, that Ozma will abdicate shortly thereafter, as she would in Ozma's place. Carrying on without the one person in the world who makes life worth living would feel infinitely more grievous with an eternity to miss them. Honestly, the thought makes her a bit sorry for Rumple. The man had endured centuries without his son. No wonder she used to think him three quarters mad on a good day.

"If only," Dorothy replies cryptically, and Regina looks at her, noting the brunette's expression has somewhat soured. She says nothing because whatever internal turmoil driving Dorothy's reaction to her comment soon shutters off behind a facade of carefree happiness. "We should proceed on to the throne room. Everyone will be awaiting your announcement."

Regina nods and gestures towards her. "Lead the way."

When Dorothy turns around and begins to walk toward a grand golden door inlaid with emeralds in the near distance, Regina spares a glance to Red, who appears as concerned as she is. Something significant was behind Dorothy's unexpected response and she is determined to find out what. But that will have to wait until later.

As Dorothy strides away, Regina rushes along behind her, Red following closely at her side. Soon enough they are standing outside the humongous, ornate double doors which bar entry to the throne room.

"Wait here for a moment," Dorothy instructs as she hovers close to the door, her hand braced against it. "I'll go in and join Ozma, then she will have the herald announce the two of you. Remember, simply follow the golden path toward the dais and take your spot to the right of Ozma and I, across from Snow and David. Once you are both in place, she will begin the ceremony."

"Got it," Red replies, then sucks in a deep breath through her teeth.

Regina gives her wife an encouraging rub on the small of her back before speaking to Dorothy. "Indeed. We'll be waiting. Thank you for the escort, dear. It was most appreciated"

Dorothy's smile turns genuine, a vast improvement from her falseness to cover up whatever had bothered her back in the vestibule. "You are welcome, my friends." And with that, she pushes the door open. She is halfway through when Red calls out for her to wait, causing Dorothy to turn back, looking perplexed.

"After this is over, I'll tell you our story like I said I would," Red says. "It's a good one. It involved a snowy mountain top, too."

"Is that so?" Dorothy asks, intrigued at the coincidence. When Red nods, she glances to Regina, who confirms it to be true with a nod of her own. "In that case, I very much look forward to the telling. Now, I best get moving before Ozma has a fit over me taking so long. I will see you both inside." And with that, she pushes her way through the door and disappears from view.


	39. The Grand Alliance

**Standard Disclaimer** : These lovely characters ain't mine, I just play with them gently. Please don't sue me. The mistakes are mine, though.

* * *

 **Chapter 3** **8** – The Grand Alliance

Once the door is closed behind Dorothy, Red slumps forward, hands on her knees. "Sorry about that," she says. "I don't know why that couldn't wait. I might be panicking just a little bit..." Between slow, measured breaths, she begins repetitively encouraging herself with a mantra consisting of only four words: "I can do this."

"Yes, you can _,_ " Regina agrees, rubbing Red's back gently as the other hand smooths up and down her arm. "You are strong and capable, and remember you won't be alone. I'll be right next to you every step of the way."

Red nods vigorously, and after another couple of deep breaths, straightens up and squares her shoulders. Posture confident, her face is anything but as she stares at Regina with palpable trepidation.

"Promise you won't leave me? Even if mess up?"

Regina smiles tenderly and then strokes Red's cheek affectionately. "I promise," she reiterates. "There's nothing you could do to make me abandon you."

Looking like she wants to say something, Red bites her lip to hold it in as her gaze turn to the door. She is clearly still conflicted about something.

"What is it?" Regina nudges, both with her words and her shoulder, bumping lightly against her wife's.

"It's silly," Red sighs, neck flushing with embarrassment. "I'm just being a big ole wimp."

Regina rolls her eyes, exasperated, then forcibly turns Red to look at her. Expression stern, she says, "Let me be the judge of that. Tell me what's bothering you."

"I..." Red begins, and then trails off for a moment. When she speaks again, her voice is small, rather like a little girl who is lost and just trying to find her way back home to her parents. "I know it's not proper considering where are and what we're doing, but...will you hold my hand?"

"Oh, thank heavens. You had me scared for a moment," Regina breathes, relieved that Red's troubles are so mundane relative to the possible and far more disastrous scenarios. Such as her coming down with cold feet at the last second and ducking out of a monumentally important event. That would have been a calamitous beginning to an alliance which may be recorded in the history books as one of the most forward thinking ever forged. If it means escaping that humiliating outcome, to hell with decorum. Holding Red's hand during the ceremony is something she is more than happy to do.

"I'm glad you're relieved at my distress," Red counters, looking a bit hurt that Regina isn't taking this seriously. "Can't you see that this is hard for me? I wasn't raised to cope with stuff like this. I'm learning it all on the fly: how to behave like a royal, how to give speeches, name things like roads and bridges, balance budgets, review financial and diplomatic and after-action reports, and review performance evaluations for important people who used to hold the power of life and death over me! Now on top of all that responsibility I have to walk out there with thousands of eyes, all from a completely different world, staring at me like I have the same power to make or break _their_ lives. I'm just overwhelmed by it all, so I'm having a little freak out here, okay?!"

By the end of that impressive rant, Red is wild-eyed and panting, so Regina grasps her shoulders tightly and forces her to pay attention. "Calm down, sweetheart, before you give yourself a stroke." She speaks in smooth, modulated tones that generally help to ease Red's anxieties at public functions. "I am well aware how serious this is for you. I am not making light of how you're feeling right now. I know I needle you in private to bait a reaction, but have I ever done so in a critical moment like this?" Red shakes her head in the negative and bats her eyelids to hold back tears. "Okay, then. Listen to me. You are going to be fine. You will do fine. You always do. You have yet to make me even once regret placing so much faith in you, and you won't start now. So chin up, back straight, and remember who you are. You are Queen Red of Misthaven, co-sovereign of one of the most powerful realms in any world. You can do this, dammit!"

Breathing deeply, Red closes her eyes and steadies herself once again. A few seconds pass as she stands there, breathing, eyes closed, face twisted in concentration. But then her features relax, and she opens her eyes. When she turns to face Regina, a wave of acceptance precedes another of serenity in those brilliant green eyes.

"You're right," Red says with renewed confidence Regina can tell is mostly unfeigned. "I'm good. I've got this."

Regina smiles encouragingly. "Yes, you do. But just so you know," she adds, "I will be glad to hold your hand if that's what you need from me. What everyone else thinks is irrelevant. I stopped listening to the opinions of others a long time ago where you're concerned. Your happiness and comfort are my top priority, no matter where we are or what we're doing. Alright?"

A look of utter gratitude overtakes Red, and as the sound of the herald's amplified voice booms out of the huge throne room of Oz, she offers Regina her hand. One of her signature smiles spreads across her lips. "Ready if you are."

Regina takes the proffered hand, squares herself to the door, and then smirks proudly. "Haven't you learned yet? I was born ready." And then she thrusts her hands out toward the doors, summoning her magic to throw them open. They fly apart with a pronounced groan. The packed masses of citizens are suddenly revealed to them, all gawking at the foreigners making so theatrical an entrance. Regina gives her wife's hand a squeeze that is immediately returned.

Together, they stride into the room, hand-in-hand and steps perfectly in sync, to the din of a rousing applause and cheering the like of which Regina has never heard. So loud is the exuberance that the firm foundations beneath her feet vibrate minutely – not enough to threaten the stability of the building but enough to feel transference through her high heels that runs up into the soles of her feet and her calves. Much of the ardor is directed at her, and she can't help but notice when one particularly boisterous voice rises above the rest with a shout of, "The Savior of Oz!" Many of the citizens join in the ensuing chant, "Savior! Savior! Savior!"

Regina flushes under the adulation. She'd known her sister was terrorizing Oz, but she'd never imagined that removing her from power would purchase such acclaim. She certainly doesn't deserve it when her heroics amounted to an incredibly risky gambit that could just as easily have got her killed as to produce the desired outcome. Perhaps, she considers, Ozma and Dorothy have spread a few tall tales around the kingdom concerning her efforts. Whatever the case, the people of Oz clearly feel indebted to her, and there is a large part of her that revels in their worship. It feeds the egotistical beast within, the one that would just as soon pick up right where her sister left off rather than play the part of the humble victor.

But then she feels Red's hand tighten in hers and glances over to see her wife smiling beautifully, rows of highly polished teeth glinting in the artificial light of the room. Only her iron grip on Regina's hand is any indication that she is feeling overwhelmed by the response to them. Even her eyes are carefully controlled, giving off a gaiety that Regina can tell is endearing her to the people of Oz – in addition to their open approval of her choice in wardrobe, of course. What people are not lavishing their esteem upon Regina are staring at Red with poorly concealed desire, as bewitched by her beauty and grace as Regina has been these past seven years. And though quite a few eyes contain an uncomfortable degree of outright lust, she should not begrudge their understandable reaction. After all, she had once rather pathetically succumbed to Red's charms, and at that time she had been renowned for having a heart so cold not even a hand dipped in liquid iron could thaw it. What chance to resist, then, could the plain masses whose passions so ruled them have to resist such a beguiling creature? The answer is none, though that does little to ease the spike of petty jealously that has her smothering a vicious sneer.

Red's underlying anxiety and her own possessiveness aside, Regina has never been more proud of her wife than she is in that moment. By overcoming her fear for the sake of not only one world but two, both of which will benefit so greatly from the alliance that will soon be formed between them, she has once again proven herself worthy of her crown.

Since ascending to the throne, Red has made significant strides in her ability to handle the public appearances that a monarch is obligated to make. Her current composure is a far cry from her debut at court. The entire afternoon, she sat ramrod straight, endlessly worrying her hands together in her lap or picking at the fabric of her dress, eyes flitting fretfully over the modest crowd of nobles and their families, both minor and major alike, gathered to observe the deliberations. A majority of them attended solely to gawk at their gorgeous new Queen, which made Red even more of a nervous wreck. Regina can't remember her having spoken a single word except to stutter out thankful replies for those who began their presentations with shameless flattery aimed at currying her favor.

Two months later, as Regina was otherwise occupied with urgent business in the palace, Red had to replace her in giving a speech to the council of Stahldorf, the township sprawled out at the base of the mountain the Dark Palace was erected upon. That Regina had already written it did not ameliorate the disaster that unfolded. According to a reliable witness, namely her father who volunteered to accompany his daughter-in-law, Red only made it a quarter of the way through before nervous nausea forced her to excuse herself. She returned half an hour later to finish, pale and hesitant and meek – and skittish – as a mouse. Later on when Regina retired to their chambers, the instant she stepped through the door, Red burst into tears. Over and over she apologized for her failure and insisted a mistake had been made in trusting her to be a fit partner with whom to rule.

" _You couldn't be more wrong_ ," Regina had told her distraught wife. " _I spoke to Daddy about what happened. I'm not even a tiny bit upset. I'm actually very proud of you_."

" _Why?_ " Red had asked, even more miserable at hearing that. " _What's there to be proud of? It was horrible! I made a fool of myself, of the kingdom, and worst of all, of you!_ "

All Regina could think to do was gather her trembling bride in her arms and tell the truth with as much conviction as she could muster. So that's what she did.

" _You made a fool of no one_ ," she had said, and can still remember how tense Red was in her arms. And how as she spoke, those coiled up muscles began to relax and the sniffles slowed down. " _Had you fled and not come back, then yes, I would say that assessment is correct. But you didn't do that, did you? No, rather than tuck tail and run like most would have, you scrounged up every last ounce of your courage and finished the job. I never expected for you to turn into an impassioned orator overnight. It took me years to refine my approach. All I ask is for you to conduct yourself exactly as you did. Keep doing your job to the best of your ability and everything else will come with time._ "

And she was right. Today is the proof in the pudding, so to speak. In the most stressful environment to which Red has ever been subjected, she is performing her role with an astounding exercise of self-control that she could not hoped to have summoned five years ago. That inexperienced young lady could not have faked her way through a simple luncheon with foreign diplomats, not to mention such a high stakes event. She truly has become a Queen in every sense of the word. No longer is she a naive former peasant who stumbled into power accidentally, but she has become a ruler in her own right – a person of stature and bearing and whose mere presence is enough to inspire people to bend the knee.

When in a matter of seconds Red takes her place amidst four other monarchs, it will not be as anything less than a true equal. And that is exactly what Regina has always wanted for her, because from her perspective it has always been true. Red is her equal in every sense of the word; she wouldn't have married her otherwise. She's just glad that everyone else is the entire world is going to have to publicly recognize that now.

" _So much for all of that poppycock about her being a plain, boring country girl,_ " Regina thinks to herself, pride in Red illuminating her from within as they stride in tandem down the carpeted golden pathway.

Returning her focus forward, she looks out over the dais, seeing the grand throne room shimmering with liveliness. The golden surfaces of the dual thrones are polished to an extraordinary finish, and their cushions are plush and of a deep, vibrant, and textured green that seems more like grass than cloth. The flames lit within the candelabra dance upon their wicks, twisting and flickering and swirling yet magically not consuming what should be the source of their energy. On the far left hand side of the dais, a large object is covered in a green velvet shroud that arrests her attention. This has to be what Dorothy had been cryptically referring to shortly before their entrance.

For a moment, Regina wonders at what it could be. No idea immediately springs to mind, neither is one allowed to as her eyes catch sight of Snow and Charming. The handsome royal couple are standing before the dais, just to the left of center. Shoulders just barely touching with their hands folded neatly in front of them, they present a perfect picture of encyclopedic True Love, just as they always have.

Charming looks quite dashing in his kingly attire. He is arrayed in a pair of royal blue pants with golden stripes down the sides along with a buttoned up white suit jacket trimmed in reds and golds and blues adorned by golden epaulettes and a high collar bearing ornate golden piping. At his waist is a black leather belt, from which hangs his famous sword. Snow, as is her custom, is wrapped in a pure white samite dress bearing threaded depictions of swans and doves upon the bodice. A flowing train of lace trails behind her. Atop her head, her long raven locks are arranged into a bun nearly identical to Regina's, set apart only by the stark red ribbon tied in it as if a velvet crown.

Both are keenly watching Regina and Red as they make their way up the path. And while Charming is gently smiling in their direction, particularly at Red, Snow is beaming with such luminosity that Regina's eyes ache from the brightness. When Red catches sight of her closest friend and old traveling companion, her own smile flashes so brilliantly that it sparks in her eyes, causing them to shine with timeless affection. Regina's throat tightens at the acknowledgement of a bond she will never understand but nonetheless has learned to appreciate. Had there not been such kinship between them, they would all be in very different places and moods today.

Feeling a swell of gratitude all of the sudden, she gives Snow an approving nod and a slight upturn of her lips, which seems to only increase the diminutive woman's buoyant joy. She is still getting used to categorizing Snow White as an ally instead of a mortal enemy. And while she is far from ready to call them friends, the idea is not so repugnant as it would have been prior to Red's sickness.

Meanwhile, to the left of the Charmings at the center of the room stand Ozma and Dorothy. The latter is holding an impeccably groomed Toto in her arms. The dog yips happily when he spots Red. Regina smothers down a chuckle. She'll have to tease Red later about canines and their innate ability to recognize one of their own.

When Regina actually drinks in the sight of her friends, her breath leaves her in a whoosh. It is a wonder that her legs continue to propel her forward alongside an equally awed Red. As it is, she skirts by on mechanical movements borne of years of practice incumbent upon a monarch.

Ozma is, as always, resplendent in beauty and majesty, arrayed in an airy white dress trimmed in and infused with emerald green. A pair of glittering jade slippers adorn her feet, and she holds in her hand a scepter topped with her sigil. Her golden hair is parted down the middle, flowing free across her shoulders and down her back, and a crown is nestled upon curls featuring her sigil which is large enough to cover nearly half of her forehead. Woven into the locks at her temples are lush poppies of the same species represented by the jewelry Red decided to wear. More than any affect the fairy's otherworldly beauty can produce, warmth suffuses her chest that she knows springs from a surprisingly deep well of fondness in her heart for her friend. It overflows, causing such happiness to wash over her that she feels as if she is no longer walking but floating toward the dais.

Strangely enough, it is Dorothy whose appearance causes the most visceral reaction, for she seems drastically altered from mere moments ago. The transformation is stunning to behold. At Ozma's side, hands joined much the same as Regina's are with Red, Dorothy is bathed in the Fairy Queen's intrinsic luminescence. Under it, she seems less a human woman of humble origins than a goddess of mythical stature. Her brown hair, normally styled as to be unremarkable, seems fuller and silkier, and her skin – bronzed from long days toiling under the sun – glistens with light reflected from her incandescent partner. With a posture so regal that she appears a born and bred member of royal lineage, Dorothy's expressive blue eyes reflect a fathomless depth of wisdom born of a hard life overcoming impossible odds. Foremost, however, there is a declaration in those azure depths that Regina latches onto. It is a silent promise of fidelity and friendship and love that she believes, against all rational objection, can and will never be broken.

Transfixed by the beauty of the couple before them, Regina is barely aware of making her way with Red to stand at their designated spot. It is only once they are in place that Regina snaps out of her stupor. Blushing lightly, she joins Red in a synchronized curtsy to their hosts, which is met by the dignified response of two bowed heads.

A short burst of cheers erupts from the crowd that Ozma allows to continue for some seconds. The instant she holds her hand up, silence falls over the room.

"Welcome Queen Regina and Queen Red of Misthaven, our esteemed guests and allies!" the Fairy Queen calls out, voice amplified by some trick of magic that Regina very much wants to learn. Despite the prolific volume, Ozma's voice does not hurt her ears and sounds as smooth and comfortable as if they were chatting amiably by a crackling hearth.

As expected of them, both Regina and Red raise their free hands toward the crowd, a greeting that is met with a resounding response. Regina looks out over the audience as they cheer, eyes sweeping across faces as diverse as those that occupy her own realm. There are those whose appearances are not at all noteworthy, such the humans occupying the center of the room who, like all others, come in various sizes and shapes. Regina does note that the humans of Oz are shorter in general than those of the Enchanted Forest. David, Dorothy, and Red in particular must seem to them giants in comparison. Snow, on the other hand, would fit right in. The stray thought brings an upward tilt to one corner of her lips.

There are those races, whoever, whose appearances are a bit more startling. The Munchkins, who occupy the eastern section of the throne room, are one such example. Another is the contingent of the friendly and affable Wheelers Dorothy had insisted to exist. Rather than their corrupted cousins, they dress in clownish colors and wear a perpetually happy expression that is almost disturbing. Meanwhile, the male Munchkins have adopted flashy hairdos bordering on gaudy and are dressed in their famous fare of checkered tunics artfully serrated at the hems along with complementary breeches and candy striped hosen; the females appear more conservative in nature with their colorful linen dresses and bonnets, though a few individuals of spirit sport conical hats – some of which even flare in reverse. They strike Regina as a rather whimsical race, but she does not know enough about them to make such a judgment, nor can she do so regarding the Wheelers, though she admits to having concerns about them, being that she is a woman of long memory who is still haunted on occasion in her dreams by maniacal cackles and screeching wheels.

She straightens her back and takes a deep breath against the memory of the tense flight from the Emerald City one year ago and turns her eyes to the west. There in the front row she gazes upon four notable individuals. First among them is a lion who is baring his enormous teeth in a smile that completely disarms them and whose mane is adorned with a purple bow. On one side of the lion is a scarecrow capped with a silver crown inset with emeralds and beside him a squatty robot of bronze so highly polished that the light in the room is reflected from him at all angles. To the other side of the lion is a man made wholly of tins, an absurd creature even among his companions, but there is an inherent warmth to him that makes Regina smile despite his ridiculous appearance. These she recognizes as Dorothy's famous adventuring companions: the Scarecrow, Tin Woodman, Coward Lion, and Tik-tok. Behind them are rows of various races that Regina cannot place.

Ozma permits the cheering for perhaps ten seconds before stilling it with another gesture of her hand, commanding Regina's attention once more.

"Today, we are gathered for a most monumental event, one that will be remembered in history as the first of its kind. In this room, two unique worlds are represented along with three equally distinct nations. And yet, different though we are, we have been bonded by affections forged in the flames of a tempestuous trial, the origins of which were one source: the Wicked Witch of the West."

A chorus of jeers and hisses issue out from the crowd, and Regina gives a subtle wince at the hatred she feels for her sister. Knowing it is justified hatred does not quell her own feelings of guilt, as she shares more than blood with Zelena. Propensity for evil is common between them as well, and she had once reached depths of vileness that rivaled if not outright surpassed that of her deceased half-sibling. There was far more blood staining her hands, exemplified by the thousands of lives she'd snuffed out personally in warfare and those she'd murdered in cold blood merely because she was in the mood to kill someone. Being twice in close proximity to Zelena afforded Regina a rare opportunity to look into her sister's crazed eyes, and in them she'd gazed at a twisted reflection of her own visage not so long ago. It sickened her to think that she was once so maddened by grief and rage that she descended wholesale into savagery and violence the like of which she imagined would far outlive her good deeds.

And yet, for whatever reason, Regina had been spared from judgment whereas Zelena had paid the ultimate price for her crimes. Reconciling herself with that reality was going to be a long time in the making, but what she had said to Red earlier before entering the throne room stands true for her as well: she is not alone. And that is made abundantly clear when Red uses the tip of her index finger to slowly spell out _I love you_ onto the back of Regina's hand. Biting back tears, she gives her wife's hand a squeeze as Ozma calls out for silence.

"I understand how you all feel," she says. "I, too, was her victim. Dorothy, your beloved champion, also suffered due to her unforgivable actions." The crowd grows unsettled at that, murmuring their anger and bitterness at Dorothy being so mistreated. It is the first time Regina has seen just how revered Dorothy is in Oz, and she is surprised to see Dorothy is held in nearly as high a regard as Ozma. "But we in Oz were not alone in our torment," Ozma then states, voice raising above the displeasure of her citizens, "for as has been published throughout the realm to be common knowledge, the Witch traveled to another world and wreaked havoc on the Kingdoms of Misthaven and Drakkenhall. She put Queen Red, who is graciously present with us today, under a sleeping curse that would have killed her had Queen Regina not acted with haste in traveling to Oz to obtain a cure. It was the heroics of Queen Regina and Queen Snow of the White Kingdom that freed our world from the brutal reign of the Wicked Witch, and at the gates of my Sacred Grove, no less."

Yet another cheer goes up, and rather than growing irritated by the constant interruptions, Ozma smiles indulgently and allows them to express their gratitude to both Regina and Snow, the latter of which blushes and gives a curtsey while Regina simply bows her head reverently. The cheering goes on for nearly a minute with Ozma's approval, as even Dorothy, Red, and Charming join in with the crowd giving a rousing applause. The praise is, Regina has to admit, quite stimulating to her ego.

When Ozma raises her hand once more, the din dies down, and she resumes her speech.

"What is not generally known, however," Ozma states, smiling warmly, "is that during this time, Dorothy and I made the personal acquaintance of these heroic monarchs. In the short time we were together during those trying days, we found in them friends of such profound degree that we were both loathe to be parted from them. It was I who suggested we form an alliance between our realms, and though logistics dictate such an alliance to be impractical, I have devised a unique solution."

Ozma then gestures toward the shrouded object to the left of the dais, and snaps her fingers. It falls away to reveal a grand archway, standing under its own weight. Made of jade infused marble, it bears the crests of each nation represented upon it, just as they are in order before the dais, the White Kingdom to the left, Misthaven to the right, and Oz in the center. Regina gasps as understanding dawns. She knows what this structure is without needing to be told, and she is utterly amazed at Ozma's audacious ambition.

" _How can it be possible?_ " she asks herself as Ozma turns back to the crowd.

"As thanks to my friends," the Fairy Queen continues, "and as a symbol of trust between our nations, I have commissioned this permanent portal between our worlds to be constructed. By it, any person gifted with a key bearing my sigil shall be able to pass through it to Oz, and from Oz to Misthaven once a similar structure is erected in that realm. All that remains is for it be activated. But before that can happen, we must seal our alliance in perpetuity."

Ozma takes a step forward and waves her scepter at the floor, causing a swirl of green smoke to emit from it where it gathers at her feet. From the smoke emerges a pedestal which rises until it stands three feet tall. Atop it is a cushion upon which sits a plain glass orb. Nothing about it seems out of the ordinary, so Regina ponders its purpose as she watches Ozma circle around the pedestal so that her back is to the crowd and she is facing Dorothy and her future allies.

"Approach, my friends, if you please," she says, with pointed looks and inviting waves of her hand to Snow and Charming and then Regina and Red. Both couples immediately join her, gathering around the pedestal on each side of Ozma. After carefully placing Toto down, Dorothy takes the spot opposite Ozma, and once everyone is in place, the Queen of Oz smiles brilliantly, causing her entire visage to take on an even brighter glow than that which persistently surrounds her like an aura of golden sunshine. She gestures toward the glass orb. "Each of you simply place one of your hands upon the orb," she instructs, and then adds, "By so doing so the Kingdoms represented signify their agreement to the terms of this alliance."

A hushed stillness ensues as the gravity of the situation at last comes to bear. Regina lifts her eyes to Snow, who returns her appraising gaze it with a gentle smile. Before she can even twitch a muscle, however, Red reaches out to place her hand on the orb, much to everyone's surprise. Out of all the players in the room, she and Charming have the least amount of personal connection to Ozma, Dorothy, and Oz, and yet it is Red who is first to give her oath by way of obedience to Ozma's instruction. With the ice broken, Snow quickly follows suit, and then Charming alongside his wife. Lastly, sparing a glance to Ozma whose eyes soften fondly, Regina places her hand upon the orb. Only Dorothy has not done so, but this is according to plan. She gives a nod to Ozma, who begins to speak again, laying out the terms of the alliance.

"In this Grand Triune Alliance," her voice booms out, "all certified members hereby swear that we shall not forsake one another in time of crisis, and to that end, when one of our number is in need, the others will respond with all due effort to provide what aid is necessary, be it for defense, or economic stability, or sustenance, or even counsel in matters of utmost import. We swear also that our nations shall, from henceforth so long as this alliance shall persist, share enemies alike, and at the consent of all founding members, may vote to add deserving member nations to our arrangement. We swear also that so much as it is possible, our borders will remain open to our allies to promote the welfare of all citizens encompassed by this accord, and that our primary objective shall always be in the striving for lasting peace and prosperity between our members. And finally, we swear that the bonds of friendship between us, the architects of this Grand Alliance, shall never be forgotten so long as we live, that we are no longer friends only but family, and that the memory of our bond shall be passed on to future generations who shall carry on our work to make better worlds to live in and better lives for our peoples. To these terms do we all solemnly swear here in the witness of thousands. Let it be recorded and sealed for posterity."

With her last word, Ozma touches the orb, which flares to life as green sparks of energy run like bolts of lightning within it. She looks at Dorothy, eyes alight with her magic, and says, "Proceed, my darling."

Regina watches closely as Dorothy comes to her full height, shoulders broad and squared, jaw set in a proud line. Her blue eyes are piercing as she fixes her gaze on Snow and Charming first.

"Queen Snow and King David of the White Kingdom," she begins, her own voice impressively commanding in timbre so that Regina is given her first glimpse of Dorothy the leader of men and women alike, the Champion of Oz, and the woman beloved of a Fairy Queen of peerless power. "In the presence of this great congregation of witnesses, do you give your oath to abide by the terms of this alliance and from them to never deviate so long as you both shall live?"

In perfect unison, Snow and Charming give their answer: "We do." At their words, a series of white and golden bolts of electricity join with Ozma's, creating a dancing web of arcing energy that works around the orb in random patterns, some circular, some zig-zagged, some linear. It is an incredible display of magic that again has Regina in awe. She wonders whether she will grow tired of Ozma's tricks and unique abilities. Likely not, naturally inquisitive as she is.

Dorothy then turns to Regina and Red, and though her demeanor is composed and her posture screams authority, her eyes swim with affection. "And do you," she says, "Queens Regina and Red of Misthaven, in the presence of these many witnesses, give your oath to abide by the terms of this alliance and from them to never deviate so long as you both shall live?"

Regina and Red turn to one another, love shining through for all to see as they pronounce their vow in concert, much as Snow and Charming had. "We do." When they speak their oath, crimson and lavender electricity joins the dizzying array of energies floating about the orb.

Finally, Dorothy fixes her gaze on Ozma, and as their eyes meet over the short distance, both women smile in spite of the somber occasion. Their love is so strong that it affects everyone around them. Snow does not bother to swipe away the tear that falls down her full cheek, and Regina swears she even sees moisture in Charming's blue eyes. Regina does not look at Red, but she doesn't have to in order to be presented with evidence of her wife's tender heart being stirred; it is all there in the way she squeezes Regina's hand, having never once allowed it to slip from her grasp.

"Ozma, Queen of Oz," Dorothy then says, and it is not difficult to pick up on the emotion in her voice, "In the presence of these many witnesses, do you give your oath to abide by the terms of this alliance and from them to never deviate so long as you shall live?"

Ozma beams at her, happiness evident in her every feature, and says, "I do." And with her words, the jade-tinted energy unique to her amplifies in intensity.

Dorothy, abundantly full of her own joy, grins right back. "Then I, Dorothy Gale," she states, "as Champion of Oz, on this the fourth day of May in the twentieth year of Queen Ozma's reign, do hereby ratify this Grand Triune Alliance. May it prosper in terms of peace, prosperity, and equality. May the bonds of friendship and love strengthen with each passing day. And may it last so long as the stars above shine." And with that, she adds her hand to the orb, causing her own tendril of sky blue energy to join the others.

Inside the orb, the magic swirls and jumps and continues arcing in ever greater strings of multicolored light, and each person removes their hand as it ramps up continually. After ten seconds of exponentially escalating energies, an explosion of light fills the entire room of such brightness that Regina has to turn away with her eyes shut. Seconds later, the crowd around them all gasp in wonder.

When Regina opens her lids, she has to allow a moment for her overstimulated eyes to readjust to the room before focusing her attention on the orb. Whereas once it was translucent, it has now solidified into a tri-colored sphere, one segment emerald green, one purest white, and the other a brilliant purple. They are the official colors of the three kingdoms involved in the alliance, and upon their respective regions are emblazoned their respective crests that pulse with energy color-appropriate to the realm to which they belong. It is magnificent, and beautiful, and alive. Regina knows it instinctively, can feel her magic responding to it.

Ozma had earlier informed her via her letter that an infinitesimal portion of each of their souls would be used to fuse the symbol of their alliance, a magical sphere that will extinguish should any member betray an agreed upon ordinance. The only reason Regina had not balked at the process was her trust in Ozma, which is as close to immutable as is possible for her. Now that she can see the fruits of that process, she finds herself with no remorse over giving Ozma that trust.

Regina has given her oath with a resolute heart, and along with Ozma, she knows that Snow, if not Charming as well, has done the same. They are bound together now in ways they could never have anticipated that day so long ago when she's rescued a princess on a runaway horse, having gone from fast friends to mortal enemies and are working back toward something positive and meaningful once again. That progress is encapsulated in the orb before her as visual proof that she is healing from that ancient wound that so dominated her life and that drove her into becoming one of the most evil villains to ever inhabit the Enchanted Forest. It is a miracle for which Regina hadn't asked, but is nonetheless grateful.

"With the establishment of this Grand Triune Alliance," Ozma then calls out, "I declare this day to be hallowed, an occasion for feasting and celebration in each of our realms, a day for unions and reunions to be remembered and revisited and renewed. Let Alliance Day be commemorated henceforth from this day and forevermore!"

An immense shout goes up from the crowd, so grand and boisterous that the room shakes. Regina can feel the peoples joy, and it springs from within her heart a fountain that she cannot restrain. She turns to Red, who is overcome with happiness, her smile so radiant that it makes everything else seem dim in comparison. Regina lifts her wife's hand to her lips and places a delicate kiss upon her knuckles, causing Red's breath to stutter and a pretty blush to rise up her neck into her cheeks.

It is so easy to get lost in Red's eyes that she doesn't even recognize someone calling her name until her wife gently tugs at her hand. Regina cocks her head to the side in confusion, which makes Red chuckle and indicate her head toward the dais, where Ozma is standing at the portal with Snow and Charming.

"Won't you join us, Your Majesties?" Ozma asks, being cheeky on purpose. Her eyes dance with good humor.

Regina still flushes with embarrassment. Nonetheless, she leads Red by the hand over to the left side, then up the three stairs and onto the dais to stand with the other charter members of their tremendously significant alliance.

They are joined by the Council of Directions, which has yet to appoint a replacement for the West. The scars the Wicked Witch wrought up on the Council have yet to scab over. Glinda appears especially grieved to be in Regina's presence, no doubt because of the unavoidable associations with her half-sister. Regina cannot begrudge the sorceress her feelings. Of all the native denizens of Oz, Glinda was the Zelena's primary victim.

Thanks to Ozma's discretion, few in Oz know what Regina does about the suffering the Northern witch was forced to endure. The information Dorothy revealed when she and Snow rescued her was only the tip of the proverbial iceberg. Not only was Glinda manipulated into breaking into the Grove to steal the fruit that would ultimately wind up in Red's hand, thus precipitating all that came thereafter, but she was tortured whenever she disobeyed even a simple command. The worst indignity of them all was the twisting of the consensual sexual relationship she had enjoyed with Zelena beforehand into something abominable.

It is clear now to Regina how much Zelena resembled their mother at her worst. Listening to Dorothy recount only a glancing description of Glinda's horrific ordeal was enough to conjure up memories of Cora's return to Misthaven. As Dorothy spoke, she was assaulted by images of her mother ascending the stairs to the tower, and of her trailing behind like an obedient slave, unable to rebel for fear of what would happen to Red if she did. When she closed her eyes she could hear the grotesque threats leveled against a shackled Red, disturbingly detailed descriptions of how amusing and pleasurable it would be for her to auction off chances to defile her daughter's common whore. And she can feel the air crackling against the flying cord of the whip her mother wielded as a reminder that what belonged to Regina belonged to her now. Only now when she recalls those traumatic moments, she can no longer tell whether it is Cora or Zelena tormenting her. Their shared barbaric, depraved tendencies have so thoroughly blended together in her mind as to make separating them nigh on impossible.

Truly, she has much to thank her father for. His genetic contribution in her conception may well have been the only factor that kept her from becoming absolutely irredeemable. Against all odds, she had inherited a portion of his tenderness and fathomless capacity for love. Those attributes had lain dormant inside her since Daniel's grisly demise, waiting to be reanimated by the only soul capable of such a herculean feat. There is little doubt in her mind that if her father was someone else, there would have been nothing for Red to resurrect. Zelena was proof of concept. Her sister's sire had been as immoral and devoid of character as Cora; she never stood a chance.

A wave of gratitude for her father washes over Regina as she passes by Glinda. Never in a million years could she treat Red with such vile contempt as to usurp her self-determination. Red's independent streak is one of her best attributes, one they have in common, which is why Regina encourages her as much as possible to venture outside their very cozy love nest.

Zelena, on the other hand, hadn't thought twice about wrenching her lover's heart out to enslave her. Glinda was not permitted to be out of Zelena's sight without permission, and even then she was closely monitored via scrying. Furthermore, the blonde witch's heart was kept on Zelena's person at all times – mostly inside a pocket dimension but occasionally out in the open when there was need to posture her absolute ownership over Oz's second most powerful denizen.

The thought of violating Red that way is nauseating, and evokes shame that pierces her heart because she is not wholly innocent of such practices. When Graham failed to take Snow White's heart, she'd punished him by taking his and then forcing him into her service. The Huntsman's service extended into the bedroom, and that she only used him that way twice and never without some measure of a respect Glinda was not afforded does not assuage an ounce of her guilt. Nor did it soften the blow of Red's anger when she confessed to her abuse of Graham. She had only done so at his behest. He was right to insist the truth was going to come out eventually, and that it was better Red heard it from her instead of some random guard that she couldn't permanently silence because she was trying hard to be a better person. For whatever reason, Graham chose to forgive her and his encouragement for Red to do the same is probably responsible for the swift repair of what would prove to be the last major rift between them.

Glinda, however, is not Graham. And seeing the pain trapped behind those liquid blue eyes reminds Regina that however bad she used to be, she never stooped as low with anyone as her sister did with Glinda. Needing to do something, anything, to make up for the sins of her family, she offers a sympathetic smile that she is careful to keep free of pity. Graham always insisted treating him as if he were made of glass would only ensure he never healed.

Though she half-expects Glinda to ignore her entirely, she is somewhat relieved the witch is able to muster up a wan smile. The subdued response is more than she deserves. Hero of Oz she may be, but the egregious crimes visited upon Oz, and Glinda in particular, were indirectly her fault. Maybe there will come a day when Regina can forgive herself for inspiring her sister's hatred, but that day is not today.

Once situated to the right of Ozma and Dorothy, she briefly ducks her head in apology for missing her cue. "Forgive me, Your Grace," she offers, only to have Ozma tip her chin back up.

"No trespass has been committed, my dearest friend," she smiles. "I would have been glad to leave you and your beloved in your enviable cocoon had I not required your help to activate the portal."

Regina grows confused at the reasoning behind Ozma requiring her help for such a thing. Her knowledge of portals is limited to Jefferson's hat and magic beans. Neither of those were covered in her studies with Rumplestilskin, so she knows that portal magic is real, only she does not know _how_ it works.

"I don't see how I can be of service," she replies. "I am adept at teleportation, but must admit to have woefully neglected portal magic during my studies."

"That is of no consequence," says Ozma. "I have the necessary knowledge, what I require is your rather impressive stores of power. More than I and the incomplete Council possess will be required to fuel this spell. Had there been a West, I would not need to ask this of you. Circumstances as they are have unfortunately forced my hand."

Regina looks surprised. "I have enough to make up the difference? I thought Zelena was far more inherently powerful than I am."

"Oh, my. Whoever told you that?" asks Ozma, perplexed.

"Someone who would know," Regina replies, being vague on purpose as to avoid having to name her teacher.

Speaking the name of the Dark One, even in Oz, is never wise. Especially seeing as they reached an agreement prior to her journey to this fantastical land. There is little she is willing to do that will even give off the slightest hint of breaching that contract. She meant it when she told Rumple she never wanted to see him again.

Ozma shakes her head vehemently. "That person, whoever they may be, was wrong. I've not met another magician besides your sister who equals you. The two of you were evenly matched in terms of raw potential, and if anything your defeat of her has proven you to be the superior."

"I didn't really defeat her with my magic in a conventional sense," Regina corrects, uncomfortable at being told she and her sister.

"Ah, but you were not aided by a necklace created by the Council of Directions which acts as a focus for magical energies," Ozma counters. "That you were able to last as long as you did against her is impressive enough. However, it is your ability to access both dark and light magic at once that puts you in rarified air, my friend."

"Well, I thank you for the compliment," Regina says, flushing yet again, much to Red's delight. She ignores her proudly preening wife in favor of aiding Ozma however she can. "What can I do to help?"

"It is simple," Ozma explains, "once I start channeling the spell, simply focus your power on the event horizon – that is, the liquid-like surface that will form within the arch. As you channel your own magic, think of your home, your castle back in your world, more specifically, the location at which you desire the portal in your world to be located, whether it be in your throne room as this one, or in another more secure location. Can you do that?"

Regina inclines her head confidently. "I can."

Ozma smiles. "Then let us begin." And with that, she points her scepter at the space between the arches. A beam of magic issues forth, and instead of passing beyond the empty space between the sides of the arch to penetrate the wall behind, it spreads out over the area, forming a surface that ripples in waves much like a liquid.

Regina allows herself a split second to marvel at what she is seeing, but after that, does as Ozma has instructed. She closes her eyes and taps into the place deep within her chest where her magic resides, and the second she touches it, she feels it release and flood into her system, gathering quickly into her hands. With a thrust of her arm forward, she levels her palm at the glistening green surface of the portal and commands her magic to pour into it. The very instant it leaves her hand, she empties her mind of all thought, focusing only on the courtyard below her chambers into which she'd portaled home with Snow from Jefferson's hat. It is the perfect location for the terminal on the Enchanted Forest side of the portal, for it is insulated from the outer citadel, well defended, and easily accessible to Regina should maintenance be required.

It takes enough concentration for her to maintain her simultaneous focus on the courtyard and the spell that she begins to sweat with effort. Magic pours out of her prodigiously in amounts that nearly rival what she'd been required to use to counter Zelena. For nearly a minute she holds the spell, and in that time, the entire room begins to quake with the vast amounts of magic being wielded. Her body is just beginning to tremble when she hears a great whoosh.

Her eyes bolt open to see a vortex emerge from the midst of the portal, not dissimilar to the funnel of a tornado – for which Oz is famous – only in reverse. When Ozma cuts the flow of her magic a moment later, Regina does the same. With the sudden release, she gasps and pitches forward, but Red is quick with her reflexes and catches Regina before she careens into the swirling vortex.

"Careful," Red says, wrapping her arms around Regina's waist. "I've got you."

"Thank you," Regina replies in a breathy tone, still struggling to catch her breath. She watches with dimmed fascination as the vortex picks up speed, swirling ever faster until it finally collapses back in on itself with an even greater whoosh, leaving a perfectly flat plane of energy.

"And now we wait," Ozma says, not even a little perturbed by what she has seen and seeming to have no ill effects whatsoever from having used so much magic.

Regina raises an eyebrow, hand on her chest as her breathing at last begins to settle. "For what?"

Ozma gives her a look that resembles a child's with excitement. "For the portal magic to reach your world," she says, voice as affected as her demeanor. "It is beholden to the laws of nature as well as anything else, and since the distance between our worlds is vast beyond comprehension, it will take much time to traverse the distance."

"How long will it take?" Snow asks, seeming to be fascinated by what has happened almost as much as Regina is.

"I can only guess," Ozma answers. "I confess my astronomical skill is as lacking as yours with portals, Regina." They all share a laugh at that, even Regina, who can't even summon a thread of anger at being so publicly teased. "To hazard an answer," continues Ozma a beat later, "I would estimate perhaps an entire year. I will know when it has reached its destination by the portal changing colors. The side located on Oz will be purple and that of Misthaven green, indicating the direction the portal one is facing travels. It is only green for now because it has yet to connect to your world. When that happens, the Council of Directions along with Dorothy and I will make a trip to activate your side using the same method we applied here today."

Before Regina can question Ozma further, the beatific woman holds up her hand. "But before we discuss anything else, I must release my people to the feast."

Regina nods in understanding. "By all means." She then watches as Ozma steps away from the portal and faces the crowd, slipping her hand back into Red's as the Queen of Oz addresses her subjects.

"My beloved children," she says, "today has been most eventful. A day worthy of celebration. As such, a feast has been prepared for you all in the courtyard surrounding the Palace. Go, eat and drink and be merry, and may my blessings and my eternal affection be with you all!"

A deafening cheer erupts from the masses at Ozma's announcement. It is accompanied by yipping and baying from Toto, which Red openly sympathizes with, lamenting to Toto about the curse of having such sensitive ears. Some of the buoyance is obviously due to the promise of free food, but Regina thinks a great deal seems to be directed at their beloved potentate, a woman for which they have no limit of devotion. To these people, Ozma is clearly more than just their Queen. Ozma _is_ Oz to them. She is the life and the breath and the soul of the nation whereas their champion Dorothy is its beating heart. Without either of them, Oz cannot be whole.

For the first time, she understands just how important her actions really were. There had been no thought of Oz in her plans outside of needing to procure a very specific ingredient that could only be found there. How could she possibly have anticipated meeting Dorothy? Or being soon after saved by the woman, after which she would go on to meet Ozma in a hasty attempt to save Dorothy's life? At a little cabin in a remote area of Oz, she'd made not one but three friends that have come to mean more to her than she can realistically take inventory of in such an environment. She can't know it right now, but over the course of many years, the three women who'd occupied that little cabin for all of two days together will turn out to be the kinds of friends she had once believed herself incapable of making. And they will remain a vital part of her life for as long as she draws breath.

One outwardly selfless act – her internal motivations are up for debate, for even Regina cannot tell whether her desperation to save Red was ultimately selfish or not – has rewarded her so much more than she could ever properly give thanks for. In defeating Zelena, she not only saved Red but an entire country above that, an accomplishment for which she will never cease being proud. In fact, when she dies, her epitaph will read, among other honorifics: " _Faithful friend of fellow Monarchs Ozma, Dorothy, and Snow, ruler of Misthaven, and the Savior of Oz._ "

Aside from being recognized as Red's wife, Regina doesn't think there could be any greater complement.


	40. The Responsibility of Monarchs

**Standard Disclaimer** : These lovely characters ain't mine, I just play with them gently. Please don't sue me. The mistakes are mine, though.

* * *

 **Chapter 3** **9** – The Responsibility of Monarchs

While the multitudinous attendees filter out of the throne room, the dignitaries make idle chit chat. By unspoken agreement, they split off into groups as people are prone to do in a crowd. Red joins Snow and Charming alongside Dorothy and her Ozian adventuring companions, whereas Regina spends the lion's share of her time with Ozma being introduced to the Cardinal witches. There is initially a lot of unavoidable awkwardness with Glinda that Ozma gracefully – and mercifully – breaks up by steering the conversation toward the safe waters of their common interest: magic.

Soon enough, the Cardinal witches beg their leave, as do Dorothy's strange friends, leaving the room empty save for the three key couples at the center of the day's festivities. Ozma then ushers them out via a more discrete exit to avoid any loitering attention seekers. Another several minutes is spent traversing the precise corridors of the Royal Palace before arriving at the banquet hall where the most esteemed guests will feast in celebration of the newly minted alliance. Some things never change, no matter the setting or the world. The nobility receiving preferential treatment is one of them. Not that she is about to complain. Her wife of more humble roots may curl her nose at the gaudy reek of privilege, but Regina was accustomed since birth for segregation to always work in her favor. She has no intention of that ever changing.

Chosen members of the council and other dignitaries that represent the various races of Oz will be dining with them tonight. Preeminent among those are Dorothy's peculiar friends: the Scarecrow, the Tin Woodsman, the Cowardly Lion, and Tik-Tok. Each of them are placed to the left of Oz's beloved champion, who is herself next to Ozma in the center of the enormous oaken dining table. To Ozma's right is Regina, then Red, Snow, and finally Charming, who gets the pleasure of sitting next to an unexpected guest.

At this very moment, the shepherd king is currently embroiled in an animated discussion with Darion, the guardsman who had a surprising change of heart after her memory suppression spell wore off. The very next day, he apparently joined the resistance against Zelena and went on to raise arms for Ozma after news spread of the Wicked Witch's death. He now serves as Captain of the Royal Guard. Regina learns through listening to their conversation that Zelena had compelled his service by threatening his wife and children, and that day in the village when he'd tried to kill her, he'd been visiting them and perceived her as a threat to their safety. While the knowledge does not dismiss his actions, it at least explains them so that she does not openly object to his presence.

As she is listening in on the variety of conversations going on around her, the food is brought in and placed in the center of the tables by the waitstaff. Vegetables of every kind have been prepared, including but not limited to ears of corn nearly a foot long, as well as scalloped, fried, and hashed potatoes, black beans and rice, and boiled squash. A roast duck is also served, along with a huge glaze-roasted hog replete with an apple stuffed inside his gaping maw. Lines of exotic fish of species unique to Oz adorn sterling silver platters, each grilled to perfection and none of which Regina can call by name. The fare is savory to the point her mouth waters and she hardly has an idea of where to start.

"I'd recommend the cabbage rolls," Ozma says, leaning over so that her shoulder brushes Regina's. "Naturally our chefs prepared them, but it is Dorothy who provided the recipe from her Aunt Em in Kansas. They are to die for."

"They look it," Regina agrees. "Everything looks delicious for that matter."

"More than," adds Red, who is eyeing the food with a lewd degree of lust.

Regina chuckles at her. Hopefully the chefs have prepared enough food to account for the bottomless pit that is a werewolf's stomach. She has her doubts, though. The first time she'd accommodated Red at the Dark Palace, she'd grossly miscalculated how much her new dinner companion could scarf down. Honestly, thin as she is, Regina still isn't sure where Red puts it all.

"Don't worry, there is plenty to go around," Ozma says, having evidently caught Regina staring wryly at Red. She directs an affectionate glance at Dorothy. "I have a healthy eater of my own to look after, you know."

Regina chuckles at the reminder. "I remember. I'm afraid the two aren't quite comparable. I don't think you understand just how much Red can devour in a single sitting."

"It's true," Red admits, looking somewhat chagrined. "I'm didn't eat breakfast 'cause my stomach was in knots, so I'm close to starving right now. I can probably eat as much as two fully grown men."

"That is not all that much," Ozma replies, appearing amazed in spite of her words.

"That's just her first serving," Regina then elaborates, chuckling again when Red blushes. "There will likely be a second."

"And a third if she's really famished," Snow interjects, then gives Red a friendly nudge with her elbow.

Red huffs out her displeasure at being ganged up on. Pouting adorably, she grouses, "I can't help it. Damn werewolf appetite."

"There is absolutely nothing wrong with it, darling," Regina says, then stage whispers to Ozma, "My filly is a thoroughbred, and I take my responsibility to see her needs met very seriously." When Red frowns in mock offense, Regina reaches for the hand resting on her lap. "Oh, now, don't pout. I happen to think your ability to out-eat an ogre is endearing," she soothes, and smiles when Red takes her hand with a sideways glance and a playful roll of her eyes that indicates she is not in bad humor about the jesting.

"Of that, I have no doubt," Ozma says, then to Red, "Eat your fill, my dear, and do not worry about the opinions of others. Dorothy certainly doesn't..."

"Oh, I plan to do some major damage," Red responds, eyes twinkling. "Starting with the roasted hog." She eyes said dish with a hunger that has her eyes gleaming yellow.

Ozma gives a merry laugh, and the whimsical chiming reminds Regina of the first time she'd heard it. How odd it is in retrospect for her to analyze how quickly she'd fallen under Ozma's charms. Few had ever wanted to be her friend out of genuine desire to know her, and she'd been fine with that. She has never been gregarious like Red, who lives to mingle and talk and interact in any way she can with as many people as she can. On the contrary, the isolation she used to occupy suited her darker personality. Without the annoying prodding of a friend at what made her surly, she could brood as long as she wished without interruption. Besides, she had her father and her beloved Rocinante to keep her company and her unhealthy fixation on revenge to focus on whenever the loneliness became unbearable.

Falling in love with Red had reopened the possibility of making herself vulnerable again, but even then she'd not felt compelled to broaden her horizons too far beyond the privacy of her bedroom. The most optimistic observer would be strained to label her relationship with Victor as even vaguely resembling a friendship. And she'd only befriended Mulan out of necessity. Not that she regrets the decision to let the spartan warrior into her heart, just that it would be dishonest to say she sought the friendship out.

With Ozma, though, it just came so effortlessly. Everything about the woman is simply magical, from her otherworldly physical appearance to her enchanting personality. Trusting Ozma feels like second nature, which should have been alarming to say the least. And yet the very opposite was true. Within hours, she was divulging secrets about herself she once would have taken to the grave.

 _Maybe it's because of what Ozma is_ , she thinks as she watches the aforementioned half-fairy point out various dishes to Red.

Regina had never met a half-fairy before encountering the temporarily deposed Queen of Oz. There was never any need to seek out their company as she had believed her opinion on the entire race permanently soured by her encounters with the fully fledged fairies from the Enchanted Forest. Sure, there was an innate desire to do good in Ozma, but Regina didn't think it came from her fae side. To Blue and her ilk, doing good often entailed some very bad things. Heinous acts like manipulating an ignorant young boy into purging his father of a curse by giving him a bean to open a portal to a land without magic, all the while knowing the likelihood of disaster approached absolute certainty.

Oh yes, Regina had heard all about that. From Belle no less. After the foolish maid got spurned when attempting True Love's kiss, she'd approached Regina for help. Evidently Belle got word – likely through Rumple – that the Dark One's former acolyte, the Evil Queen herself, became embroiled in an unexpected romance and had a subsequent attitude shift. When she, too, fell in love with a beast, she decided that made Regina the perfect person to consult.

In the process of negotiating said aid, Belle spilled the beans about how Rumple landed in his current state to begin with. How she came by the knowledge she would not say, nor did Regina care to extricate that source when she was being handed a potential weapon to use against the Dark One upon a silver platter. The tale was tragic, admittedly, but no more so than Regina's own. It was for Red's sake alone that she neglected to take advantage of poor little heartbroken Belle to strike out against the man largely responsible for constructing the Evil Queen. Regrettably, Red had taken an immediate shine to Belle and put a stop to any machinations before they were even nascent notions in Regina's head. So the maid was sent away with the only assistance she was willing and able to give – that is, a sage piece of advice that for Belle to have any chance with Rumple she would have to accept him for who and what he was, just the same as Red had done for her.

In any case, hearing about Rumple's devastating loss only solidified her already piss poor opinion of the entire lot of fairies. Save Nova. That one Regina is actually a bit fond of. Nova may be an idealist of the nauseating variety, but she has gumption to balance her idealism along with a healthy skepticism regarding the leadership of her kind. For the latter reason alone, Regina helped the love struck fairy abscond to Snow's new kingdom to be reunited with her beloved Dreamy, now known among Snow's septuplet of vertically challenged misanthropes as Grumpy. Disgusting as the idea of a dwarf and fairy in love is, she could not pass up the opportunity to spite Blue by facilitating a relationship the chief fairy had expressly forbidden.

Oh, and hadn't Blue's ire been delicious! Regina still grins whenever she thinks of how the self-righteous gnat responded by appearing in the Dark Palace to threaten her relationship with Red.

" _It wouldn't be hard for me to show her what you really are,_ " Blue had said, snarling from across the desk behind which Regina sat, completely unperturbed. " _Or better yet, I could help her find her True Love!_ "

Though her eyes flashed as violent urges pranced through the fore of her brain, Regina had ignored them and calmly sat forward, hands steepled under her chin. " _How very magnanimous of you to destroy a young woman's happiness solely out of an irrational hatred for the partner she's chosen to spend her life with. If I didn't know better, I'd say you were every bit as willing as I am to cross the lines of decency in pursuit of an agenda._ "

Blue had got the point. Spluttering with indignity, she proceeded to rail against the suggestion that she was anything like Regina. Which in the end was Regina's entire point. She once believed the same thing about herself and her mother, only she had blinded herself to the truth because she didn't want to see it. Willful ignorance of one's true nature is the most dangerous form of delusion, and in her experience, fairies are practically infested with it.

Ozma, though, is anything but ignorant. She is perfectly aware of her own foibles, and yet still determined to do the right thing. Not at all costs, but by placing her faith in the maxim that good always triumphs over evil and trusting in that rather than helping the cause out of some misguided sense that she is qualified to affect such change. And while Regina still believes that maxim to be patently false on a small scale, she has been afforded new perspective to the larger application. Looking back now, it really does seem as if good triumphs in the end, and that would be a grand enough revelation if Ozma hadn't also taught her that it matters how that victory comes to pass.

A month ago when Ozma visited Misthaven using the silver slippers recovered from Zelena's corpse, it was under the auspices of discussing the alliance. Regina suspected the true reason was that Ozma simply missed her. No doubt Dorothy did as well, but the Champion of Oz was unfortunately busy at the time dealing with a minor crisis that required her particular skill set. Another purpose to the visit was so that Ozma could return something to Regina that she left behind in Oz. Imagine her surprise when her friend appeared in the courtyard holding the reins of a gorgeous dapple gray steed who whinnied with delight upon catching sight of her.

Anyway, not long after a heartfelt reunion with Lucas, Regina arranged an impromptu meal to be prepared. Over dinner, she and Ozma were recounting their time at the cabin to Red, and during the discussion it came up how she never considered operating under the assumption Zelena could be saved. That from the outset, the plan was to kill her sister as there were no other viable, or tolerable, alternatives from her perspective.

" _The ends don't always justify the means,_ " Ozma had told her. In contradiction to her flawless skin and youthful features, the wisdom present in her blue eyes indicated the Fairy Queen to be a far more advanced age than she was. " _I know you saved the day by killing Zelena,"_ Ozma then said, _"but at what cost to yourself? You may not regret that decision at present, but there may come a day you wish you'd given your sister the same chance at redemption you so mercifully received._ "

Regina, affronted, began to interrupt only for Ozma to raise her hand in a plea for Regina to listen to what she way trying to say. So Regina did. She owed Ozma that much, at least.

" _Please understand,_ " Ozma went on, " _I am not condemning your actions so much as asking you to contemplate whether or not resorting to such extremes will always be the right choice. Not the correct one. The_ right _one._ "

" _Is there really any difference?_ " Regina had asked, still a bit flushed with indignation at being chastised in front of her wife.

Had Regina not known Ozma's answering smile to be from genuine affection, she would have taken it as pure condescension. From anyone else, the expression and the tone applied to the speech that followed would have provoked her to an irrational response. As it was, her trust of Ozma was all that prevented an outburst that might have derailed the entire evening, if not their fledgling friendship.

" _That you have to ask that question at all should speak volumes,_ " Ozma countered. " _Of course there is a difference. Do you not remember that I could have struck Zelena dead at any time I wished?_ " Regina sat back, stumped at the recollection of that conversation, causing Ozma's lips to curl up at one edge. " _I may be half human,_ " she added, " _but I am also half fairy. In lieu of my mother's death, by birthright the power innate to Oz itself became accessible for me to call upon at my leisure. If you will also recall, I made the point that had I slain Zelena outright, I would have taken destiny into my own hands, irreparably staining my conscience in the process. That may have been the correct decision, but it certainly wouldn't have been the right one._ "

" _And so many died as a result. So many who didn't have to if you'd done what was prudent and necessary rather than electing to keep your conscience clean,_ " Regina had countered, cold logic demanding she do so.

Back when they first discussed this topic, she had hardly been able to comprehend her friend's inaction in the face of the people of Oz suffering for it. For Red's sake alone she would have used every tool in her arsenal to eradicate Zelena's foul existence from the face of the earth. Adding to the equation the survival of the people she has come to love for their own sake outside of their usefulness to the Crown and she will only fight that much harder – and dirtier. Deceit, betrayal, and coldblooded murder are all on the menu when it comes to protecting what belongs to her.

Ozma nodded mournfully in acceptance of the, perhaps, harshly delivered point. " _That is true, and I cannot deny that I am haunted by it each and every day. Would that I could have saved the kingdom without resorting to measures that surely would have created, if not in the blink of an eye most certainly in due time, a worse beast than the one that came before! I would have done it, Regina, I swear. The only way I am able to live with my choice is that I know I tried to save my people without compromising the ideals that make me who I am. If you'll recall, that is not a slippery slope I can risk starting down. Unlike it was for you, by virtue of my race it is for me a one way trip._

" _Also, there is the not so insignificant fact that my refusal to compromise allowed much good that might otherwise have never happened. For instance, would you have ever learned that you have it in you to fight for the righteous cause if I had intervened? Furthermore, would you have ever discovered that Red is, indeed, your True Love? Would you have ever met me? Or Dorothy? Or mended the broken relationship between yourself and Snow? And that is just using you as example. Thousands more got the chance to rise to the occasion because I took consideration as to exactly who I am_."

" _I know you said before that killing Zelena would have corrupted you. I guess that information never really registered until now,_ " Regina said, a little breathless with wonder. Back in Oz, she never stopped to let the implications sink in. She was too busy thinking about her own problems and cascading series of failures to prevent them to appreciate how precarious Ozma's position was.

" _Now that it is_ ," Ozma replied, " _can you see that it matters just as much who I am as to who I am not?_ "

" _What does that mean?_ " Regina hadn't meant to sound rudely obtuse, she was just struggling to see Ozma's point.

Ozma shrugged, tilted her head, then focused those impossibly blue eyes upon her. " _It means before making such a momentous decision, I cannot afford to act irrationally and hope for the best as humans do. Too much is at stake, and not only for me but for my people. Who am I to decide the fate of so many without asking their input? That is what I would have been doing, after all. Does being a Queen give me that right? And who am I to judge whether or not all life is sacred or whether it is disposable at the whims of monarchs and warlords who had no part in it's creation? I fought Zelena, shoulder to shoulder with my people, but never while wielding my full might because I am a Queen, not a goddess like my mother was. That is something every magician worth their salt should be taught on their very first day of study. Had Zelena learnt that invaluable lesson, she may not have been tempted into the inescapable arms of a supreme force no mere mortal should rightly wield. But she forsook all consideration of meekness in her insane pursuit of power and the rampant abuse of her magic only further drove her into madness. Tell me, did you not experience the same phenomenon once upon a time?"_

Regina had reeled a second time at the comparison, as much bothered by its accuracy as with whom she was being juxtaposed. Zelena's crimes were still fresh in her mind then, and she'd been loathe to accept any parallels between herself and her deceased half-sibling. However, her respect for Ozma seemed to be unshakable, and that made her seriously take inventory of the similarities she'd been blatantly avoiding ever since learning she wasn't an only child. Looking back, she could clearly recognize the character traits she and Zelena shared – their stubbornness, recklessness, volatile temper and pride foremost among them. Ozma had also brought forth another similarity that Regina could not deny if she wanted to maintain a shred of integrity. Because there had indeed been a period in her life where she transformed into something truly despicable to grasp the reins of power, magic having played a starring role in the production.

Blanching, she swallowed thickly as guilt took hold. Her chest ached with rapidly increasing pressure. All those little barbs Zelena had thrown at her, mocking her as a disappointment and a failure, taunting her with assertions that their mother would be embarrassed to see what she'd become...every last one was true. There was a time her mother was proud of who she was, a woman who would just as soon put a village to the torch and watch it burn – inhabitants and all – rather than seek out more conventional forms of entertainment. Once, during a particularly bad fit of boredom, she'd experimented on a prisoner just to see how much more effectively her magical fire seared flesh than the real thing. Was that really so different than anything Zelena did? No, not really. That answer made her so sick that she nearly lost her meal right there at the table.

Red's hand finding hers was the only thing that quelled the roiling waves of nausea. As usual, her wife sensed her disquiet and with impeccable timing leveraged an underappreciated gift for assuaging bouts of mental or emotional anxiety. Somewhat more calm, she glanced up to find Red staring at her worriedly and forced a reassuring smile that didn't reach her eyes. She didn't want her making a fuss when Ozma was merely making a point.

" _I'm sorry to have upset you, but I felt I needed to emphasize my point in relatable terms,_ " Ozma continued sagely, though her tone was more gentle in the face of Regina's awful realization and poor reaction. " _You, most of all, should know that the most insidious aspect of power is that it corrupts with subtlety. Most assuredly I would have told myself I was using mine to purge my kingdom from a depraved woman hellbent on our destruction. Had I chosen to pursue acting upon that line of reasoning, I would have been celebrated, hailed as a savior by a grateful nation. Perhaps I would have even been worshiped as a benevolent deity as many such heroes are. There are many ghastly tales of a fall from grace that begin that way. How long before I became yet another example because I started to crave the praise like it was a drug? How long before I, too, fell victim to the intoxicating combination of my people's limitless adoration and my own insatiable pride?_ "

She paused to draw in an unsteady breath, looking more frail than Regina had ever seen her. _"You see me as some infallible bastion of virtue, but I assure you I am not. Far from it, if I'm being frank. Fairies are inherently, and in particular, susceptible to the dangers of pride. I am no exception to that rule. Thankfully, my human side has humbled me enough to recognize that character defect. However, if I had acted as others wished me to, inconsiderate of my own conscience, I would all too soon lose myself to the same seductive whispers that have corrupted so many of my kind before me. Did you not know that a vast majority of the great evils to be written about or spoken of in myth and legend are based upon fallen fairies? One of the most infamous is the Black Fairy. She, too, used her power for what she perceived as the greater good, and it turned her into a monster of nightmarish proportions_. _It took every living fairy within a thousand miles to end her reign of terror. Had I struck Zelena down with impunity, I would have soon enough joined the Black Fairy in the inescapable darkness into which she was banished._ "

The lesson, although distasteful, was well-received. Not that Regina had any intention of changing her own way of thinking. She is comfortable with who she is. That said, she is more willing now to listen to the voice of reason and to err on the side of caution before resorting to extremes. Ozma had been right to point out her own gross abuse of power had made her into something nearing a hideousness as to be irredeemable. Ozma had also been right that there is a difference between doing the correct thing and doing the right thing.

The problem for Regina is that she knows herself far too well. Should she ever again find herself in a situation like Red being stricken with the sleeping curse, she will do what is necessary to save her, consequences be damned. The only thing that will change is that she is no longer alone upon that temptation-fraught path. She has friends that will be right there by her side who will help keep her from careening over the edge into the abyss. Snow has already proven herself capable of doing just that, as there's little doubt in Regina's mind she would have done much worse had Snow not been there than ensorcelling one guardsman, offing a few others in a skirmish, and then killing her sister during their showdown. She'd probably have burnt the whole of Oz to the ground to get what she wanted, and not felt a bit remorseful afterwards.

In the end, she was glad Snow came along, if only to preserve the painstaking progress Red has helped her make. She still is. And she's equally glad to have gained two new friends who are just as invested in the condition of her heart as her wife and her former step-daughter, one of whom is a practical paragon of virtue – that despite Ozma's insistence to the contrary.

When Regina notices Dorothy rise from the table and meander over to speak with the Scarecrow, her mind turns back to Ozma's fantastical origins. She seizes the opportunity to address some research she'd done into fairies after her foray into Oz.

"I've been meaning to ask you about something, Ozma," Regina says, trying to maintain her composure. In the background the gangly strawman, in a tizzy about something, flails his arms haphazardly while Dorothy bobs and weaves to avoid being smacked by a rogue limb. It's a comical sight she would have a good chuckle over if it weren't for the severity of what she wishes to discuss. Sensing the importance of the topic, Ozma listens intently as she says, "After meeting you last year, I did a great deal of research on fairies when I got home. In my studies, I discovered that they are immortal. Is that true?"

Ozma nods, expression indicating her surprise at the subject matter. "It is. Why do you ask?"

"For one, there were no indications in my tomes as to the origins of the species and how they may have attained such a boon."

"If one can call it a boon," says Ozma. "Some may argue that watching those they care for die over and over again is a curse." She then furrows her brow slightly before shrugging off the heavy thought that crossed her mind. "As for the topic at hand, I am surprised to hear that none of your scholars have discovered how our kind are created. The magic you practice in your world is quite advanced. The secret should have been uncovered long ago."

"Not advanced enough, apparently," Regina says, then narrows her eyes. "By created, do you mean to say that Fairies are unnatural?"

Ozma shakes her head. "Unnatural? No. We are born as other natural beings are. However, our conception is, by any metric, supernatural solely by virtue of our parentage."

"What do you mean?" Regina asks, now fascinated.

"All fairies trace their immediate lineage back to a divinity who took corporeal form and procreated with a lesser sentient being. Mostly this happens between deities and elves or other such magical races. When they breed with humans, however, beings such as myself are produced. We inherit far more attributes from our terrestrial parent than the others." A question races across the forefront of Regina's mind regarding the fairies she has encountered and why they look human, but before she can voice it, Ozma adds, "Before you ask, the reason why most fairies you will encounter resemble humans is because they take on human attributes to appear more innocuous. Familiarity breeds comfort, yes? Their original form would be closer to that of an elf or a satyr or centaur or other such entities, but they shed those for the most part when the elder races began to fade into the shadows. Scaring away little boys and girls they wish to help, or manipulate, would be counterproductive."

"That...actually explains a lot," Regina says. Setting aside for now the confirmation of beings that exist on a plane beyond sensory perception, she latches on to the part about fairies abandoning their true appearance to fool naive or ignorant humans. It suddenly makes sense of why she's never felt safe around Blue or her cadre of sanctimonious do-gooders of oxymoronic moral ambiguity. They are always working an angle, always driven by an agenda they keep tightly tucked against their chests. Fairy aid is never given without it serving some ulterior purpose. The ancient magical races are, according to every available lore source, notorious tricksters and schemers. No doubt the head fairy is the offspring of some particularly loathsome demon or demoness...

Ozma smiles indulgently. "I'm glad to have been of service. And the second reason for your inquiry?"

"Well," Regina pauses to take a preparatory breath. This is a delicate line of questioning that she doesn't want to come out wrong. "When Dorothy first arrived in Oz and you were a prisoner of Mombi, you said you were both children. Correct?"

The story had stuck with Regina, and with Red on the road to a full recovery, she'd used some of her scant downtime while her wife napped to ponder how Ozma could have progressed through development in the same way a human does. In all of her research, fairies were purported to be of static age, that is, they sprang into being at their designated age through some mystical process that remains to date undiscovered. That Ozma was half-human could account for her having aged from infancy, but even then it was suspicious that the advancement occurred as quickly as it did. Surely the part of her that was faerie would have slowed any natural process down significantly.

"True as well," Ozma says, elbows on the table and her head resting in her palms. "Though I was far from what you would consider a child. As a half-fairy, I age much differently than humans."

"Why, then, do you appear to be the same age as her today?" Regina asks, curiosity getting the better of her sense of decorum. "I intend no disrespect. It's just that if you are a fairy, or a half-fairy rather, should you not still be the little girl Dorothy first met? Or near it at least, having aged much slower?"

Ozma leans in toward Regina, eyes twinkling with appreciation. "Ah, I see. A clever observation most overlook when hearing of how we met. To answer your question: you are correct. I would still appear to be that same little girl had it not been for Dorothy. While I inherited my mother's immortality, I am also given the same choice as each and every one of my magical kin. At any time of our choosing, we are able to advance our appearance in age, but only ever forwards and never backwards. Most remain in the flower of their youth indefinitely, but some rare few choose to progress with the humans to whom they have grown inextricably attached. That is the path I have chosen. When Dorothy returned to Oz, I advanced myself to be her peer, and as she continues to age, I shall continue to do the same."

The information is certainly fascinating enough to hold Regina's attention for hours, though it quickly slips through her grasp like a pile of sand through her fingertips. The implications of what she's just learned are astounding – and alarming. Dorothy may be a strong, vital young woman right now, but that won't last. Like all other human beings whose lives are as vapors in the wind, she will eventually grow old and frail. And some day, hopefully far in the future, she will die.

Horrified at the prospect of Ozma ever meeting the same fate, Regina feels her heart begin to beat more rapidly. "Won't that mean you'll eventually die, too?"

"It does, indeed," Ozma says, not a bit sad or regretful over her decision. "I have chosen mortality rather than to be sundered from Dorothy for eternity after she passes."

"That is so tragic!" Red says, hands over her heart. "But it might also be the most romantic thing I've ever heard..."

When Regina stares at her wife like she's grown another head, Snow pitches in. "I agree, actually. Sad as it is, it is incredibly romantic."

"And incredibly permanent," Regina reasons in disbelief. "I mean no offense, Ozma, but wouldn't it have been wiser to extend Dorothy's life? I've seen your power. I am reasonably certain such a feat is well within your abilities."

"It is, and I offered to do just that," Ozma says, resolute. "Dorothy does not want to live forever, and even were I to disagree with her choice, I love and respect her far too much to undermine it."

That Ozma seems overtly proud over Dorothy's refusal is not inconceivably odd. Much as Regina can't fathom turning down immortality, is an admirable choice that shows remarkable foresight and restraint. She isn't sure she could do the same in Dorothy's position. There is so much she wants to do and not nearly enough time to get around to even half of it.

"As you can probably imagine, her decision made mine easy," Ozma adds, somewhat wryly. "Eventually facing old age and death isn't so bad a trade-off for spending my life with her. Unfortunately, our mortality brings other problems to bear."

Regina is versed enough in court politics to read between the lines. With Ozma no longer immortal, the issue of succession becomes increasingly critical to the nobility, who depend upon the patronage of their monarch to retain their power and prestige.

"You're talking about needing to produce heirs, right?" Red says, beating Regina to the punch.

"Quite so," Ozma inclines her head toward Red, looking as impressed by the deduction as Regina is.

"It goes without saying that Regina and I have the same problem," Red replies, cheeks tinged pink at Ozma's appraisal and Regina's beaming praise. "We've talked about it a lot, especially since I ate that stupid apple. We won't be around forever and our friends back home would much prefer their current stations to replacing us should something horrible happen. And since we really don't trust the nobles to pick somebody, we really need a legitimate heir. I think we both agreed that adoption suits us just fine."

"It makes the most sense," Regina confirms, still smiling as she reaches out to take Red's hand. "I am barren for reasons I don't care to discuss, and, quite to my relief, Red has repeatedly refused to entertain the many unsubtle suggestions that she breed outside our marriage." Red accepts the proffered hand and gives it a firm squeeze; she knows how much anxiety that scenario had created for Regina. The idea of some grubby nobleman having his way with her wife, even at their permission and with the sole purpose of siring a child that would rightfully be theirs, still makes her skin crawl and her stomach churn. As much sense as the council's proposition made, she's more than thankful for Red having so vehemently declined. She returns the pressure of Red's grasp along with a grateful smile. "What's more," she then says, "as she so aptly pointed out to me a time or two, there are many children in need of a home and we have much love to give."

Ozma hums in approval at the idea. "Necessity has yet to force Dorothy and I to broach the topic," she says after a moment of contemplation. "Also, she is not quite ready for children, I think. Still too much adventure to be had. But when the times comes, perhaps we will consider that as a viable alternative."

"I think that's splendid! Adoption is such a noble choice!" Snow chirps up. Regina bites back the urge to reprove the unsolicited opinion, knowing Snow is just happy that her friends are talking about having children. In her letters to Red, Snow often lamented that she didn't have any nieces or nephews that Emma could play with.

Tempted as she is, Regina cannot resist at least a snide comment. "What would you kno..." Unfortunately, the sounding of footsteps interrupts her. She glances up to see Dorothy approaching, looking pensive.

Something is wrong. Regina braces herself for bad news.


	41. A Boy Lost, A Son Found

**Standard Disclaimer** : These lovely characters ain't mine, I just play with them gently. Please don't sue me. The mistakes are mine, though.

* * *

 **Chapter 40** – A Boy Lost, A Son Found

For once, Regina's tendency to assume the worst proves to be an overreaction.

"Ozma, something has come up that requires your attention," Dorothy says upon approach.

"What's the matter, my dearest tempest?" Ozma's response exudes her quintessential grace and seemingly infinite stores of patience.

"A young boy was just caught in the kitchens pilfering bread, amongst other things," Dorothy says, her words are clipped with an annoyance whose origin, Regina guesses, lies mainly in her unsatiated hunger. If she is anything like Red, coming between her and a meal is a dangerous proposition. Regina almost feels bad for the boy who was made to deal with the physically impressive woman's ire.

Ozma's brow arches nobly at hearing of this unusual development. "Other things such as?"

Dorothy's expression clouds over darkly. "A set of expensive silverware including a very sharp knife..."

Ozma's eyes enlarge and her mouth wraps into an o-shape as she digests the implication. She chews on the information quickly, then seems to dismiss any potential nefarious intent with a purse of her lips and a shake of her head.

"Well," she says, now completely recovered, "we can't have that, can we? Bring him here directly."

Uncertainty stalls Dorothy from prompt obedience. "In front of our guests? Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure. Just be discreet about it and everything will be fine." Ozma's countenance suddenly brightens as an idea flashes in her bright eyes. "For that matter, why don't you offer him your seat when you bring him in. He can sit with us while we question him. He's likely just a terrified, hungry child. I'd like to put him at ease if possible."

For a variety of reasons, Dorothy seems dubious about the plan to seat the young thief at a table chock full of royalty, all of whom are wearing ridiculously valuable jewelry. Regina echoes the sentiment. Were the setting less formal and foreign, she might inject her opinion of Ozma's unwise decision. But since it is neither, she abstains lest she risk disrespecting her hosts.

However Dorothy feels about the matter, she cannot resist Ozma's command. Especially not when the blonde has her mind made up, as is evidenced by the sharp glint to her blue eyes and the disapproving arch of a gold-trimmed brow. She heaves a frustrated sigh of submission.

"Alright. If that's what you want, I'll go get him," Dorothy says, still looking unconvinced. When Ozma nods curtly, she turns briskly and marches away.

Not much is said in the interim aside from a few idle speculations about the boy that Regina doesn't pay much heed to when they'll discover the particulars soon enough. The chatter ends abruptly when Dorothy returns, leading a scrappy, bedraggled boy with shaggy brown hair and dark eyes toward them by the shoulder. There is something familiar about him, Regina decides as Dorothy stops short of Ozma's seat and gently forces the boy to do the same.

"Queen Ozma, I present to you..." Trailing off, Dorothy ducks down and whispers to her charge, loud enough that Regina can hear, "Say, what's your name, kid?"

Wide eyed with terror, just as Ozma predicted, the boy nervously stutters out his response. "Uhh...Bae – I mean, N-Neal."

Sitting primly and tall without seeming overly intimidating, Ozma gestures toward the quivering boy. "Which is it, young man? Bae or N-Neal?"

"Neal, your Majesty," he says, and the words come out in a rush like a dam giving way after enduring too many years of unrelenting pressure. "I'm so sorry! I know it was wrong to steal, it's just...I'm so hungry and I have no family and I'm not from this land so I don't know anyone and..."

Ozma stops the verbal vomit with an elegantly raised hand. "So you are not native to Oz? How intriguing! May I ask from whence you hail?"

Neal ducks his head to avoid the Queen's friendly yet discerning gaze. "A land called the Ench – uhh, N-neverland, Your Majesty."

Regina's eyes narrow at the boy's second near slip. Had he been about to announce himself as being originally from the Enchanted Forest? If so, why the correction? Was it possible he recognized her and had done so out of fear? Or was there someone else living there that he wished to avoid being associated with? Many other questions and possibilities spring to mind, but she pushes them to the fringes in order to focus on Ozma's delicate interrogation.

"Is that so? How splendid!" Ozma claps with delight, which confuses the boy greatly. And Regina as well. If Ozma had caught the boy's near mistake, which surely she had, she chose not to pursue it. Strange. "Pray tell," Ozma then says, "what method of travel did you utilize to reach Oz?"

"We came by ship," he says, still staring bewildered at Ozma's mercurial shift from stern to giddy. "My captain swore he would get me out of Neverland and he did. Pirate's code: a promise made is a promise kept." A dark shadow passes over his face as he pauses, then shuffles his feet a few times and swallows thickly. "But when we got here, him and the crew all got captured by a witch with green skin. I haven't seen hide nor hair of 'em in a long time. I figure she killed 'em all, Your Grace."

 _Zelena_ , Regina thinks, seething internally. As if she needed more justification to feel no remorse for her actions at the Grove. If it were possible, she'd quite like to resurrect the crazy bitch just to kill her all over again. Perhaps she'll just have to settle for bringing Neal home to the Dark Palace so she can make sure no one ever hurts him again.

The rogue thought has Regina scrambling to explain why it had cropped up here and now. There is no rational justification she can come up with on short notice, which does little to assuage the frisson of panic lancing through her chest. For the sake of this innocent child, however, she masters her turbulent feelings quickly. There is something about Neal that she cannot put her finger on. His story is also compelling, and contains a spark of familiarity that restarts the wheels turning in her head. _A pirate ship that traveled between worlds? Could it be?_

"Not an unfounded assumption, young man," she says, voice a little more gruff than she'd have liked. "You say you came here by ship?"

"This is Queen Regina, young master Neal," Ozma says when Neal just stares at her dumbly. "She is my friend. Answer her as honestly as you would me and all will be well."

Neal gulps anxiously. "Yes, ma'am. I mean, Your Majesty. Sorry."

Deciding she likes this awkward boy already, Regina adopts a relaxed pose and smiles reassuringly. "That's quite alright. You may call me Regina if you wish."

"I couldn't do that, Your Highness. Not with you being royalty and all," he says, his stance loosing up just a bit even though he refuses the offer of informality. His swift adaptation from a Lost Boy with no manners whatsoever to practiced composure makes it clear that whatever world he hails from is one with a similar system as that of the Enchanted Forest. Again, her curiosity regarding that earlier slip is piqued.

"Well, the offer stands in any case," she says, then gestures idly. "But back to the topic at hand...was the ship's name _The Jolly Roger_ by chance? And your captain a handsome rapscallion aptly named Hook?"

The way Neal's eyes narrow suspiciously confirm her guesses as accurate even before he audibly does so. "How'd you know that?" he asks pointedly, decorum dropping upon sensing a potential threat. _Neverland_ , she thinks mournfully, _has honed his survival skills to a fine edge_.

There is nothing to be gained by revealing the sordid arrangement she made with Captain Hook to kill her mother, so she deftly deflects. "I have heard of him before is all. I give you my word, I am not a threat," she replies, keeping her tone even so as to potentially coax him out of the defensive stance he has now entered. When he nods and releases some of the tension in his muscles, she adds, "I have to say, though, your former captain has quite the reputation for being an untrustworthy scoundrel. It surprises me to hear he treated you so well."

"He isn't so bad, Your Majesty," Neal says, crossing his arms over his chest in disapproval at her criticism of a man for which he clearly harbors the utmost respect. "Or he wasn't to me, anyway. Like I said, I got no family left and didn't have any skills or valuables or anything, but he took me in anyway. He saw to it personally that I was taken care of, gave me the pick of the food and places to sleep, and made sure none of the crew picked on me too bad. I wouldn't have survived Neverland without him."

Regina gives him an encouraging smile. "I'm glad to hear that, Neal. Truly. No child should be left unattended in that land of superstitious heathens, raucous brats, and malevolent shadows. If Hook kept you safe, then he performed a commendable service." Neal nods his acceptance, so Regina decides to shift gears to safe waters. There will time for further inquiry later. And besides, the savory meal all ready to be devoured must seem an impossible temptation to a half-starved young lad like Neal. Perhaps with a full belly, he'll be more inclined to discuss his true origins. "Now tell me," she gives him a persuasive smile, "how would you like to dine with us this evening? Hmm? There is more than enough for all and I'm sure you're famished…."

Unfortunately, Neal doesn't take the gesture at face value.

"Is that a joke? Are you mocking me?" Arms at his sides, fists clenched tightly, fury radiates from his every pore.

Try as she might, Regina cannot rein in her reaction. Her eyes flash dangerously, causing the boy to startle back a step. She grits her teeth against rising fury. However understandable the boy's cynicism, it is unacceptable behavior. Her mother had ingrained in her the immutable law that children who speak with such impudence to their elders are to summarily punished. Oh, and how she wants to erupt, to let her temper fly loose and grab the boy by his arms and shake some sense into him along with a modicum of respect for his superiors.

But doing that would make her no better than her mother. So instead, she takes a deep breath and counts to ten before delivering an answer she hope will assuage his legitimate concerns.

"I have done many regrettable things, but I do not mistreat children," she says, more than a little proud of how composed she sounds when the rage demon she keeps locked inside her is going bonkers, threatening to compromise the integrity of its cage. "Especially those in such a vulnerable position as yourself. The offer is sincere. Furthermore, I think I speak for all of us here that we would be honored to have you at our table. Unless, of course, you have better plans?"

Looking chagrined, Neal toes the stone floors before shaking his head meekly. "If sharing my bread with the mice in the cellar doesn't count as plans, then no ma'am..."

Feeling emboldened by her successful navigation of the situation, Regina reaches out toward Neal. She's close enough to grasp his forearm, and it pleases her more than she would ever admit that he doesn't reject the gesture.

"Then by all means," she says, "go fill your plate. After you have filled your belly, perhaps you might tell us some more about Neverland. Does that sound acceptable?" Neal offers no response other than to nod, as if words are failing him to express his gratitude. She's glad of it, as she requires none. As Red would say, it's the right thing to do. "Excellent! Dorothy, would you be so kind as to escort our young guest to the buffet and lend him a hand?"

Dorothy perks up at the request. "I'd be happy to!"

"If it's alright, I think I'll go, too," Red says, and the look in her eyes is unmistakable from where Regina is sitting. She's already sprinting headlong down a path to mothering the boy without him – or even Red herself – being aware of it.

Strangely enough, Red's behavior doesn't fill Regina with the gnawing sense of panic she experienced no long ago. There is no blaring internal alarm sounding inside that has her wanting nothing more than to run for the hills. Quite the opposite, really. She has to bite her lip against the warmth that suffuses her chest as she watches her wife introduce herself to a starstruck Neal and lead him by the hand toward a feast that has his eyes bulging with unmitigated lust. The sight reminds her of the ephemeral vision she'd had of Red holding the hand of a young lad not terribly unlike Neal the night before everything fell apart.

"Makes for a lovely picture, does it not?" Ozma asks when it's just her, Snow and Regina left in the vicinity, with Charming having soon after joined Red and Dorothy with Neal. "I think he shall be a fine addition to the family."

"Excuse me?" Regina replies, brow furrowed. She'd heard well enough but feel unprepared to face the reality of what might be happening right now.

Ozma tuts a friendly reproof. "Oh, come now. You were thinking about asking Neal to come back home with you and Red within two minutes of meeting him. Am I wrong?"

Regina sighs, partially annoyed at her friend's perceptiveness but also a little grateful. Maybe talking about it will help.

"No. You're not," she says, pinching the bridge of her nose. "But I can't ask do that, however much I want to."

"Whyever not?"

"As you said, we just met him!"

"Yet even so, a bond is already forming. And not just with you. Your lovely Queen seems to have won him over in seconds. Or do starving, frightened young boys so openly trust every kindhearted lady who holds their hand?"

Regina scoffs, already knowing the answer. "If Red is the lady in question, then yes they do. No doubt he instinctively senses her goodness. He's not unique in that regard. She has that effect on everyone she comes into contact with, young or old. It's why I told her that she was born to be a mother. Me on the other hand..."

"Oh, pah! I'll not hear another word of self-loathing out of you, Regina! Whether or not you can see it, I believe you will make a most excellent mother."

"How can you be so sure?" Regina hates how insecure she sounds.

"Because I know you," Ozma says, and with so much kindness and compassion that Regina's self-loathing is tempered enough for hope to flare dangerously within her breast. "I knew you the moment I met you, and I am a keen judge of character if you'll recall. You certainly have your rough edges, as do we all, but your heart is big as the moon and your capacity for love more vast than any ocean. The way you love Red, the way you love me, and even the way you love Snow..."

Regina interrupts before things get out of hand. "Let's not venture too far into the land of absurdity here..."

"Don't even bother with denials, Regina," Snow injects, having observed the conversation quietly til now. The brat always picks the best moments to chime in. "I know how much you care. It's why I survived into adulthood. Love stayed your hand. You were just blinded to it by the hatred that kept you veiled. Now it has been lifted, and while you may not be the same young woman I first fell in love with, you are more like her than you are the woman you became after Daniel died. I'd think it was a crime if you didn't get the chance to be a mother on your own terms. So don't be so quick to dismiss what's happening right now. I choose to believe fate dropped Neal into your lap and you should, too. Don't throw away what might just be one of the greatest gifts you'll ever be given because you're scared. All parents are scared at first. That just means we're taking the responsibility as seriously as we should."

Ozma nods fervently as she shares a conspiratorial smile with Snow. "Wise words, my friend."

"Why, thank you, Ozma! I appreciate that. If only Regina here could stop being stubborn and recognize that, we'd be on the right track."

When they turn their attention onto her, pleading with her to give in, Regina unleashes a prolonged groan of frustration. Damn them both. "This isn't fair at all," she says. "You two are not allowed to gang up on me. It's bad enough that I have to deal with Red's puppy dog eyes..."

"We're just doing it because we love you!" Snow says, looking even more earnest that normal. "We just want you to be happy."

Taking that the wrong way, Regina furrows her brows. "I am happy." Could they not see that? Honestly, she has all she needs right now. Red alone is enough for her. That she's forged friendships on a level she'd never expected herself capable of is only icing on the cake. Trying to foist a poor, pitiable orphan upon her, however charmed by him she may be, is totally unnecessary.

"I know that, silly," Snow says, gently swatting at her shoulder, which elicits at death glare from Regina that she deftly ignores. "But can you honestly tell me that a part of you, however small it is, doesn't already want to take that boy home and give him the kind of life every child deserves but so few are fortunate enough to receive?" Regina has no answer for that, which Snow rightly takes as confirmation. "Well, then, there you have it. If nothing else, spend some more time with him. We'll be here a few more days. What can it hurt to get to know him a little better?"

Regina pulls a face then. With the way Red bonds with people, a day will be an eternity – a phenomenon with which Snow has personal experience. " _What can it hurt?_ You know very well if Red is allowed to spend an entire day with him," she says, "she won't want to turn him loose. She'll fall head over heels in love and won't be able to bear leaving him behind. That means she'll unsheathe her weaponized pout against which I have no defense. Then I'll have no choice in the matter. I can't say no to her when she desperately wants something. How am I supposed to deny her the opportunity to be a mother? She's been yearning for the chance far longer than she should have been made to. For that matter, what the hell happened to me? Zelena was right. I have gone totally soft."

Snow reaches out with the same hand she'd swatted Regina with, only this time to rub her upper arm. To her shame, Regina allows the contact, further proving her point. Closing her eyes, she curses her weakness.

"You fell in love," Snow says, and when Regina opens her eyes, she's met with green eyes filled with unmistakable affection. "Don't worry. It happens to the best of us. That said, I don't think Red will be alone in feeling so strongly about Neal." When Regina scoffs an objection that is entirely fabricated, Snow sits back, arms smugly crossed over her chest with a smirk tugging at the corners of her lips. "Tell me I'm wrong. Go ahead. I'll wait."

Although she wants to do just that, she can't. Snow may be acting like the annoying gremlin she is, but there is no point in denying the truth. Especially when Ozma is awaiting her response every bit as eagerly as Snow.

"Oh...for pity's sake. Must you always be so insufferable? Fine. We'll see how it goes. That's the best I can do at present."

Snow's joy is over the top. Practically bouncing in her seat, she claps her hands like a five year old who's just seen fireworks for the first time. Meanwhile, Ozma appears equally fit to burst, only she restrains her exuberance much better. Because she's an actual adult with impulse control.

"Oh, wonderful!" Ozma says, so happy that her effervescent glow spreads into Regina's chest. "We will take it. Won't we, Snow?"

"Damn straight we will!" Snow says, and they all laugh, buoyed by the gaiety of the moment which, wonder of all wonders, only extends on to the rest of the evening.

To Regina's eternal shame, she doesn't even make it a day before Snow is proven right. There is an indefinable quality to Neal that endears him to her – and to Red, of course, not that that was ever in doubt. From the moment the boy held Red's hand, Regina subconsciously recognized the inevitability of Neal's adoption.

The only surprising aspect is how long it takes them to get Neal to agree to their taking custody of him even on a provisional basis. Whatever had happened to the boy in his past left scars that made him reticent to trust any adult save his beloved Captain Hook. The rat bastard. All of Regina's good will toward the piratical scoundrel is eradicated in an instant upon discovering that right after escaping the prison he was tossed in, he reclaimed _The Jolly Roger_ and left Oz without sparing so much as a second thought for his young charge – or for the rest of his crew for that matter, who all perished in Zelena's barbaric dungeons. When she carefully breaks this information Neal, he refuses to accept that version of events as truth. It takes Red confirming the story for him to believe his beloved Captain had abandoned him. Understandably, he is devastated. Powerless to help, Regina has to watch the boy's hopes crumble to dust right in front of her. Seeing someone so young come undone makes her so angry that she swears if she ever lays eyes on the pirate again, she'll give him a need for several more false appendages.

Their stay extends from days to weeks just because of how fragile Neal is in aftermath of the news. Thankfully the kingdom is in capable hands with them having left Mulan, Aurora, and Philip in charge. She isn't sure she could have gone home with the boy in such a pitiful state. The only silver lining to Neal's crushing disappointment is that his bond with Red only deepens. He almost continually hovers around her for comfort rather than running away entirely. It isn't easy by any means for Regina to watch Neal hang on to Red like a monkey dangling precariously from a half-broken limb, but there isn't much she can say or do about it when it's as if Red is his sole harbor in the midst of a catastrophic tempest.

Time and again, she tries to be motherly, if only to alleviate some of the pressure on Red, just to fail spectacularly. Mostly her attempts at reaching out just push Neal further into Red's orbit. Of course, Red eats up the attention, and is so focused on being what Neal needs that Regina feels even worse about her mounting frustration at her perpetual inadequacy. Eventually, as it tends to, the crescendo reaches critical mass.

The breaking point happens one afternoon when she goes to the trouble of making Neal lunch only to have the gesture spurned.

"I'm not hungry," he says, glaring at her as if her very existence is an unforgivable nuisance.

"Well, I'll leave it here just in case," she says, sitting the plated meal upon a nearby table. When he turns away from her scowling, tears prick at her eyes unannounced. She has to hastily dismiss herself to keep from breaking down in front of him. Or losing her cool altogether. The last thing she can abide right now is to further damage his low opinion of her. Once sequestered inside the Royal Guest chambers, though, she succumbs to heartbreak and disappointment that has slowly accumulated to the point she can no longer hold it at bay.

 _Can't he tell I'm trying?_ She thinks as she slides down the nearest wall, already sobbing bitterly. Feeling wretched, she hugs her knees to her chest. _Can't he see that I care? That I want to be there for him every bit as much as Red does?_ The rhetorical only makes her feel more miserable. She wouldn't begrudge Red's closeness with the boy for anything, and yet she feels so irrationally jealous that she can hardly see straight whenever Neal avoids her presence or ignores her questions so that he can hide, tucked securely into Red's side. Rationally, she knows it's his coping mechanism and would not dream of begrudging her wife the development of such a lovely maternal bond. But she's not being rational right now.

Hating herself for too many things to name, Regina just cries harder. So hard that even using both hands to cover her mouth, she can barely stifle the sounds of her anguish. A mountainous volume of self-pity inundates her, dulling her senses and fogging her mind. Coming unraveled, she does not notice someone else enter the room until a body slides down next to hers. A much smaller body, at that.

"I used to have a family. A long time ago," Neal says, so softly she barely hears. She curbs her hysterics into pitiful sniffles and stuttering hiccups so that she can listen. "It was just my Papa and me, 'cause my mother ran off on us. But that was all I needed. He loved me enough for both of 'em. Then one day the Ogre Wars came calling for any boys old enough to hold a spear or a sword. My Papa was so desperate to save me that he made a terrible mistake. He struck a deal with the wrong person trying to stop the wars and got magical powers he didn't really understand. After that he was never the same. I tried to help him, to keep him from becoming bad, but no matter what I did he just kept slipping away. Wasn't too long before I lost him for good. It's why I have a hard time trusting people. Especially people with magic."

Regina blanches when his eyes find hers at that last statement. She'd thought she'd been so careful not to use her magic around him, knowing how uncomfortable it makes most children. Her dark magic is especially repugnant to the innocent.

"I saw you use it a couple times that first day," he clarifies without judgment.

"Why didn't you say anything?" Regina asks, then winces regretfully upon realizing not only had she already answered herself but Neal had as well. "I'm sorry. That's a stupid question considering what you just told me."

He shrugs off her apology, looking repentant himself. "That's okay. I'm sorry I made you cry."

"Well, then I'm sorry my magic scared you."

Neal chuckles at her insistence she must be allowed to apologize for something. "Don't sweat it. At least I know you aren't like Papa, so I'm pretty sure I can trust you."

The statement shocks Regina. The last thing she expected was for him to extend her any amount of trust having just heard the reason behind his hatred of magic.

"Not that I'm complaining, but how do you know that?" she asks, needing to know how he came to such a conclusion.

Neal shrugs as if it should be obvious. "You wouldn't have cried if you didn't care a whole lot about how I feel. You want me to like you that much. Bad people don't do that. When Papa got his magic, he didn't stop caring but he stopped crying."

It is, without a doubt, one of the most profound things Regina has ever heard – and one of the most consoling. She breathes out a huge sigh of relief. Over the past several years she has been told so often that she's not a monster anymore, and while she believes Red and her father and Ozma and even Snow, hearing it from an objective source makes all the difference. Neal has every reason to be afraid of her, to shun her, fearing she'd mistreat him the way his father had. But he's not. Instead, he's sitting here beside her, offering her comfort when she should be the one offering comfort to him.

"I...I don't know what to say to that except thank you, although that seems terribly insufficient," she says, overwhelmed by the unexpected and incredibly precious gesture.

For the first time, Neal smiles at her. And not just a fake smile for Red's benefit, but a real one that reaches his eyes and touches his heart. One that means he thinks she's worth his investment, that in spite of her flaws there is something in her worth liking.

"You're welcome," he says, then turns serious a heartbeat later. "Just promise me you won't use magic on me or to get me things or anything like that. Ever. Okay?"

Regina nods emphatically. To keep his approval, she'd consider giving up magic altogether. Which is sort of scary. The only other person she's ever felt that way about is Red.

"Got it," she says. "No using magic on you or for your direct benefit. I promise I will try my absolute best."

"Thanks for that."

It's clear he's not talking about the promise, which confuses Regina. She scrunches her brows together. "There's no need to thank me."

"Sure there is," Neal says. "You could have lied and said you'd never do it all. Instead you told the truth, even if it might not have been what I wanted to hear."

Regina averts her eyes, feeling ashamed. Should she have lied? Would that have been a better way to handle the situation?

"That doesn't change your opinion of me?" she asks, insecurity drawing her shoulders in.

"Nope. If anything, it just proves I was right. You're a good person."

Regina takes a deep breath and slowly lets it out. "I wish I believed that as much as you do."

"Don't worry. You will." When Neal nudges her shoulder, she looks up to see him smiling at her again.

She bites her lip so hard she almost draws blood. "How can you be so sure?"

As if transformed during their brief exchange from the timid young boy petrified of her shadow, Neal, now brave and bold, loops his arm around her shoulder and pulls her against him. Regina leans into the embrace as her fears dissipate and her heart soars. Her world shifts, dramatically yet not catastrophically. Rather, it's as if a final correction has been made the tilt of her axis that Red began so many years ago, righting it once and for all. And now, with her alignment perfected, the sun shines upon her, brilliant and warm, dispersing the last of the shadows and melting away the stubborn patches of ice that refused to relinquish their grip on her heart. Her entire being suffuses with more peace, hope, love, and joy than she'd thought she could ever contain inside a vessel of such fragile earthen clay.

"'Cause," Neal then says as Regina stares at him in awe through suddenly bleary eyes, "I'll be around to help make sure you do."

And just like that, Regina knows she has a son. Alongside her memorable introduction to Red and watching her radiant bride walk down the aisle, it is one of the best moments of her life.


	42. Epilogue

**A/N:** Well, that's it. My days of writing for RedQueen - and OUaT in general - are in all likelihood over. At least in terms of long stories like this. I highly doubt I ever return to this fandom other than little one shots. Stranger things have happened, though.

I sincerely hope everyone who stuck with me through the years enjoyed this send off. While it is not my personal favorite, it is in my view the best story in terms of quality I've ever published. A fitting ending I'd say.

To everyone who has left kudos and/or feedback on my RedQueen fics, I'd like to send out a giant thank you! Without you all, most of my material would probably still be rotting away on my hard drive. My labors were as much for y'all as for me. I'd also like to send one last shout out to my awesome beta, UnfairestOfThemAll, for putting up with my insanity. You made me a better writer, friend, and I am ever so grateful!

Well. I guess that's me signing off. Goodbye RedQueen and OUaT. You will forever live in my heart.

 **Standard Disclaimer** : These lovely characters ain't mine, I just play with them gently. Please don't sue me. The mistakes are mine, though.

* * *

 **Epilogue**

 _ **Seven Years Later**_

"Neal!" Red bellows from the cozy cradle of Regina's lap. "Don't let your brother chew the stick! He's not a puppy."

Regina laughs heartily. Out in the distance, Neal and Emma are chasing after Henry, their youngest child, through an enormous meadow of knee high grass. Henry, now a toddler, squeals in delight as he totters along, stick in hand, playing a game of a keep away from the two older children.

"He's just trying to imitate his mama," she says, then nuzzles her nose against Red's cheek. She laughs again at Red's scandalized expression.

"Oh, Regina, you're so bad," Snow comments from where she is leaning into Charming's shoulder. She starts giggling uncontrollably when Red lunges to push her shoulder, nearly toppling her over onto the sprawling blanket they'd spread out to lunch on.

"Some might even say evil," adds Charming, grinning mischievously in Regina's direction.

As testament to her personal growth and their cooling distrust, Regina only spears him with a lighthearted glare that lacks all of her usual sting. "Best you remember that, shepherd, lest I put you out to pasture," she says, pointing the stalk of celery she's been nibbling on in his direction as if it were a magic wand.

"Or turn him into a sheep," Dorothy injects from her position reclined on her back with the back of her head laid on Ozma's lap.

Regina meets her friend's twinkling eyes and they share a devious grin as Aurora and Mulan snicker along. The glow of motherhood still clings to Mulan in spite of giving birth less than three weeks ago and sporting dark circles under her eyes from lack of sleep due to nursing. Aurora is nearly as radiant, huddled close as she can get to her tiny but dangerous partner's right side. Meanwhile at Mulan's left, Phillip coos at the trio's newborn – a precious baby girl they named Valeria – about how funny it would be to hear Uncle David bleating instead of talking. Their eldest, the son so named after his father and paternal great-grandfather, is visiting his maternal grandfather or else he would probably be out in the meadow horsing around with the other kids. At an age in between Emma and Neal, the young Phillip is commonly found in their company. Often, being the most level-headed of them, he has to play buffer between the two headstrong crown heirs. Thankfully he has a knack for it seeing as he has three parents who each operate on an even keel. Phillip is the group's grounding rod of responsibility that keeps them from tearing the castle apart with their youthful hijinks, which is why Regina likes to spoil him rotten.

In response to Dorothy's jest, Charming holds his hands up, feigning terror. "Please, anything but that! I've been teaching Emma how to shear wool so she can help out a bit next spring. She's proven frightfully efficient. No doubt she'd have me under the clippers within minutes. And what would I look like when I turned back? No thank you, I like my hair and eyebrows just as they are."

The image of an eleven year old Princess Emma shaving her father in sheep form is undeniably hilarious. Filled with mirth, Regina turns her eyes back to the meadow. There, Emma is twirling around in a dance to the sounds of a song only she can hear, a gleefully cackling Henry balanced deftly on her hip. Neal is watching them fondly from the shade of a nearby tree, leaning against the trunk with his hands in his pockets and wearing a lopsided grin. No doubt if Snow saw the sight, she'd be making wedding plans.

Regina allows her mind to wander. Ever since Neal came home to Misthaven, he and Emma have been practically inseparable. Matchmaking hardly seems necessary from her perspective. Those two are as thick as thieves, and near enough in age that a union between them is almost a foregone conclusion unless their dynamic shifts dramatically in the coming years. She doesn't expect it to, though she's been wrong before.

As repugnant as it might have been once for her son, her pride and joy, to marry Snow's daughter, the thought is strangely appealing. Emma is a good girl and a nice balance of her parents' respective traits. She's respectful, strong, incredibly willful, and very independent, yet optimistic and hopeful and stubborn when it comes to never giving up on what she believes in. In a way, she almost reminds Regina of herself when much younger and still operating under the false impression that she had an actual stake in her own future. What's more, Emma adores Neal and the feeling is by every account mutual.

All of this in combination might explain why she doesn't bother chastising Red and Snow whenever they commiserate about their children's potential future nuptials when neither of the youngsters are remotely ready. Perhaps it can be considered when Emma turns twenty – assuming, that is, Neal hasn't fallen in love in the meantime. Some part of Regina, the part that doesn't still see Neal as forever requiring his mother's protection, actually wants the two to end up together. A union between them would make a nice full circle conclusion to the complicated, oft twisted, and – though fraught with tragedy – ultimately happy tale of their two families. It all got started with a marriage, after all...

It's almost sickening how sappy that is, but she cannot find it within herself to care anymore. Twelve years of relatively blissful matrimony with a hopeless romantic and adopting two amazing children has given her a new perspective on life that allows room for such sentimentality where none used to exist.

She can still remember the day they officially adopted Henry. An unexpectedly violent rash of flu swept through the kingdom, and the poor thing's parents perished in the outbreak. When he was found, he was severely malnourished, clinging to his dead mother's gown and suckling at a teat that had long dried up. Matron Vilenda oversaw his rehabilitation personally. It was through Vilenda that Red was introduced to the orphaned child.

Neal had been living with them for a little over four years by then and was settled nicely into the family, so Red naturally concluded it was the perfect time for them to add one more member. Regina was not so sure it was a good idea. She hadn't wanted to disturb the healthy environment they had developed for Neal and thought bringing another child into the mix, especially an infant, would upset their equilibrium. Neal did not agree. When they broached the topic with him one night over dinner, he was strangely enthusiastic about being an older brother. With no other excuses to fall back on, and outnumbered two to one, Regina folded like a cheap blanket. It was one of the best surrenders she ever made.

The first time she held Henry, she could not stop kissing his little face and gushing over how small and gorgeous and perfect he was. As if in response to her effusive show of affection, his tiny fingers wrapped around one of hers and he cooed up at her, his dark eyes transfixed by the strange woman who was holding him. Caught up in the moment, it was all she could do to keep from bawling her eyes out she was so ridiculously happy. Red did not help matters either as she stood with Neal, a blubbering mess of joy. Regina was even more pleased with herself that she did not squall like a teenage girl the way Red did when Neal finally got his turn to hold his baby brother. She did cry, though. Quite a lot, actually. She just did so in a dignified manner befitting her station.

That was just one of many occasions that Neal would inspire a fountain of adoration and pride to spring forth from her heart. Another source was how capably conducted himself in his role as Crown Prince. The nobles, as it turned out, had a modicum of good sense about them – that or healthy self-preservation – and did not fight her when she named him her heir upon his thirteenth birthday. As she had expected, Neal was not overly fond of the idea of having so much power thrust upon his shoulders, citing his estranged father's fall from grace. She had to remind him that he wasn't his father, just like she had to learn that she isn't her mother. It took some time and a little more convincing, but he eventually came to grips with his new position. Since then, he has only flourished.

Regina couldn't be more proud of him. After all he's been through, it would have been so easy to give up. But not her boy. No, Neal is a fighter and a survivor and possesses wisdom far beyond his youth, which made him a perfect candidate to rule over the kingdom whenever she and Red decide to retire to their conservatively palatial country estate. The only potential issue she can foresee arising is if the Dark One ever learns who Neal really is.

Not too long after his adoption and under the condition that it remain a fiercely guarded secret, Neal finally confided in his new parents as to his true identity – and that of his father. His real name, he told them, was Baelfire, and his father was once a poor, crippled spinner by the name of Rumplestiltskin. To say Regina had been shaken to the core by the disclosure is a gross understatement. For days, she fretted herself sick over Neal's safety, and Red's too, knowing full well how Rumple would react to discovering she had adopted his long lost son for whom he sold his soul to the most pernicious of curses to ever exist. Deal be damned, he would put her entire world to the torch, and then her, too, for daring to take his place in his estranged child's life. Not that he has one. He had lost any rights when he chose his power over his only child, and that's what Neal told her when she confessed to being afraid she would lose him.

Since their breakthrough in Oz, she and Neal have grown as close as any mother and son could hope to be. If he was the fruit of her own womb, she could not love him more. He is, in many ways, an extension of her being. When he hurts, she hurts. When he is happy, so is she. She shares his tears and experiences his joy and takes extreme pains to play an active role in his life in spite of the demands incumbent upon a ruler of a vast, prosperous realm. And he is so very much like her. Their moods often mirror one another and they share many of the same tastes in music, art, literature and food. Meanwhile, his appetite for learning rivals her own and his aptitude for politics is recognized by even the most experienced counselors. These days, he is as likely to accompany her to court as to spend leisure time cavorting with the other noble children. He is a mature, studious boy with a quick wit, and she counts it is one of her three greatest equilateral privileges to be his mother.

" _I'm my mother's son,_ " he likes to answer when asked why he's so well behaved for his age. And to her immense satisfaction, his smile is always directed at her.

Of course, he still adores Red. It's just that Red is more the entertaining parent whereas Regina is the responsible one and he's at that age that he's coming to appreciate what she has to offer versus Red's boundless energy and endless fun. The energy and fun do come in handy, though, when he is in a sporting or adventurous mood, which is quite often considering he is a sixteen year old boy just hitting his stride. They go on frequent hikes up and around the mountains ringing in the Dark Palace and practice archery together every afternoon at three o'clock on the dot. It was Red that gave Neal his first sip of beer when he was thirteen, though Regina was not nearly as impressed by that decision as their son was, and successfully lobbied for him to be allowed a pint or a glass of wine for dinner when he turned sixteen. He loves her a lot for that. It is also no surprise that he most often turns to his more sensitive mother when he needs advice on personal matters.

Of all the lessons Regina has learned about parenting, the hardest to absorb was that it is a team effort. On their own, they have deficiencies that might rob their children of necessary ingredients to becoming a successful, well-adjusted adult. But together they are able to offset those shortcomings. She doesn't have to do it all alone because Red is there to help and that principle is reciprocal. Together, they offer their children a solid, unshakable foundation comprised of love and trust and devotion that has been battle tested and tried by the blazing fires of crisis after crisis. Working as one, they can offer a better childhood than they were provided and help their babies secure a future that isn't quite so characterized by pain and loss and tragedy. Thus far, she thinks they are doing an admirable job, though she will admit to being biased.

"What are you thinking right now?" Ozma asks, breaking the spell that had fallen over Regina. The fairy queen of Oz is hypnotically brushing her fingers through Dorothy's long chestnut tresses while her spouse drifts in and out of a lazy summer afternoon nap.

Red, too, has surrendered to the pull of drowsiness brought on by a full belly and a heart brimming with love for her weird and wonderful extended family. As for Aurora, Mulan, and Phillip, they have joined Snow and Charming who are walking hand-in-hand alongside the children on a leisurely stroll through the meadow. Neal is currently sandwiched between Charming and Mulan discussing something intriguing – judging by the look on his face, Regina surmises the topic is probably the upcoming Tournament of Knights – while Henry is perched on his godmother's left hip, grabbing at Emma's hair as the princess skips at her mother's side.

Feeling so content she cannot help but release a drawn out sigh, Regina gazes at her faerie friend over Red's curtain of thick chocolate curls. "Just that I'm so happy I can scarcely believe this is real and not a splendid dream I'm going to eventually wake up from."

Ozma gives her a commiserating nod. "I know what you mean. If you'd told me seven years ago I'd be spending almost as much time on another world as I do my own and that I'd be surrounded by more family than I could have ever wished for, I'd have said you were mad. Yet, here I am."

"Here _we_ are," Regina amends amiably. "I, at least, with more than I deserve, and both of us the better for the angels providence has so graciously blessed us with our lives. And to think, it all started because my wife ate an apple. The Fates truly do work in mysterious ways."

As if a cosmic exclamation point, a comet shoots across the sky, so bright that it's visible even in the afternoon daylight. Regina stares at the celestial sign in awe.

"For both our sakes, I'm glad they do," Ozma says, following the shooting star with equal wonderment.

"Me, too, my friend," Regina says, and holds on to Red just a little bit tighter. "Me, too."

* * *

And that is how one green apple changed not one world but two, not one kingdom but three, and not one life but countless. Inspired by love, two women defied the odds and the traditions of a society not fit to translate into the hopeful future they were determined to build and then went on to raise their children into princes and princesses and rulers in their own right whose wisdom and strength was renowned the world over.

When all was said and done, Regina and Red loved each other until the very end, and even beyond this mortal coil according to the belief of some who were there when Queen Ozma of Oz passed away. On her deathbed, she declared herself on the way to at last join her beloved and their friends in the afterlife. Many proclaimed Ozma's words to be products of her feverish mind as she languished, mostly delirious, through her final days.

But those closest to her say that her eyes were crystal clear and her voice calm as the still sea when she spoke. And they will insist that they felt the presence of spirits among them when Ozma at last departed from the land of the living to whatever lies beyond, that she stretched out her aged hand, palm up and then curled it around the empty air only for her skin to begin glowing with magic. As the awestruck bystanders looked on, a translucent hand appeared, bathed in sparkling amber as it held fast to the dying Queen's. When Ozma expired, they said, a burst of blinding light erupted from her body, and the handful of people present – namely her daughter, Imogen, and her grandchildren and her most trusted servants – were no longer alone. Illuminated by the tremendous release of energy, the unmistakable figures of one man and three women were plainly visible in addition to the one holding Ozma's hand. All were joyful, in the flower of their youth, and – along with Ozma's recently departed spirit – restored to a former state of glory. Just as quickly as the figures appeared, they faded, leaving all in wonder, comforted that their Queen, their progenitor, was in a better place.

In time, that tale faded from popularity, but on nights when the moon shines brightly over the Sacred Grove of Ozma, born anew each generation of the fruit of her loins, it is said of the Honor Guard patrolling it day and night that voices can be heard inside the walls. Voices of laughter and merriment, of friendship and sweet words of devotion between lovers. The gaiety produced within the Grove on such nights is purported to be capable of lifting even the lowliest spirit among the isolated outpost, and it lingers for months afterward in them so that the position became the most coveted among soldiers in all of Oz.

Those few who have witnessed the event say that it is the founding members of the Grand Triune Alliance who congregate there, that names can be heard among the dancing and singing and spirited conversation, clear as a bell on a warm windless day. It is, they will swear under most solemn oath, Queen Ozma and her beloved champion Dorothy Gale, Queen Snow the Faithful and her noble-hearted King David. As they were in life, foremost among this class of celestial royalty are the Savior of Oz, Regina, and her Queen of peerless beauty, the Lady Red. Their spirits, some say, are drawn back to manifest in the mortal plane by the mystical powers of the moon, by the life force of Ozma that lives on in perpetuity within the Grove, and by the eternal bond they forged together over three decades of friendship.

And who is to say that they are wrong? Stranger things have happened. After all, it only took one green apple to change the world forever.

 **The End**


End file.
